


though everything is a miracle

by overtures



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Tags will be updated as the story progresses, as well as established marvel canon, i mean they're 11 at the beginning so like. yeah, i'm not tagging every character in the mcu. they probably all appear at some point, playing fast and lose with the mcu timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:55:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23550424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overtures/pseuds/overtures
Summary: When most people go to Hogwarts, they get seven magic-filled years of wonder and excitement. They usually don't have to deal with saving the world.Peter Parker has always been extraordinary.
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 27
Kudos: 66





	1. frontier

**Author's Note:**

> “There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” - Albert Einstein

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter enters into a brave new world. It doesn't stay peaceful for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hail and well met! welcome to my over-complicated mcu-hp fusion that nobody asked for but i can't seem to stop writing. hope you enjoy!  
> (see the end-notes for any chapter-specific warnings!)

**PART 1: SPACE**

* * *

**01\. Frontier:  
An unexplored area of land**

Peter Parker isn’t necessarily proud to say that he’s perfectly normal, thank you very much, but if pressed he would probably agree that it’s an accurate description. Sure, he likes science a little bit more than the average eleven year-old boy, but he also loves lego and Star Wars, both of which are typical of eleven year-old boys. In fact, it’s why he didn’t notice the owl for a good five minutes when it first arrived: he was too focused on organizing the pieces of his brand new Lego Death Star kit that he had just opened from his aunt and uncle to pay attention to the world around him.

But then the owl had started tapping on the glass with its foot, and Peter had glanced in its direction, and _noticed_. 

Peter takes off his glasses, rubs them on the fabric of his shirt, and puts them back on. The owl is still there. 

Peter squints. 

“Uh,” he says. “Uh, May?”

“What’s that, sweetie?” May asks from somewhere down the hall of the apartment.

“There’s, um, there’s an owl? At the window?”

“What the - did you just say there’s an _owl_? Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” Peter replies absently, looking directly at the owl. It stares back at him as it raises its leg to tap on the glass again. “I’m pretty sure.”

He hears May’s footsteps as she enters the kitchen. “If you’re messing with me - holy shit.”

Peter takes his eyes off the owl to glance at his aunt. “That's 10 cents in the swear jar.”

“Ben,” May calls, ignoring Peter, “Ben, come here.”

“This isn’t another one of your jokes, is it?” Ben asks from the living room. 

“No,” May says.

Peter hears Ben sigh as he joins them in the kitchen. “Alright, if you say so - what the hell?”

“That’s 5,” Peter mumbles.

“What do we do?” May asks, frantically. “I didn’t even think that owls lived in the city!”

“Me neither,” Ben says. “Pass me an oven mitt, I’m gonna shoo it away.”

The owl taps the window again. Peter thinks it looks a little pissed off, but that might just be, like, how owls look normally. He doesn’t know, he’s not an ornithologist. 

May makes Ben wear two oven mitts, an apron, and an old pair of goggles (the kind used for snorkeling that cover the nose, too; Peter has no idea _why_ they have them considering they’ve been snorkeling a grand total of zero times), before she lets him approach the owl. Peter watches as his uncle reaches out cautiously to unlatch the window and open it outwards. He tries to shoo the owl away with his other arm, but instead of fleeing, it decides to come _into_ the apartment, much to Peter’s surprise. 

May starts swearing. Peter tries to tally what she owes the swear jar, but gives up.

The owl flits around the room for a moment before it lands on the kitchen table, messing up Peter’s carefully organized arrangement of Lego pieces and knocking a few over the side of the table and across the floor.

Peter scowls. Those piles had taken him _far_ too long to organize. The owl tilts his head and hoots, triumphant.

“Is it holding an… envelope?” May asks, once she’s calmed down enough to stop yelling profanity.

“Who cares what it’s holding, we have a bloody owl in the apartment!” Ben exclaims.

It is, in fact, holding an envelope, one that it drops on the table on top of a pile of lego pieces as it flies back to sit on the ledge of the open window.

Peter leans over to look at the back of the envelope. His name and address are written in a curling black script.

He looks up at his aunt and uncle. Both are looking at him with wide eyes.

“I’m gonna open it,” he decides, and promptly does so before either one of them can protest. 

Well, he tries to. He absolutely mangles the envelope in his attempts to break the red wax seal before Ben hands him a butter knife to slide under the fold of the envelope, but the paper inside remains intact. It’s a weird kind of paper, rougher and thicker than usual printer paper. The colour’s off, too. And the words on the top page look handwritten, _and_ they’re written in the same flowing script as his name on the envelope. Whoever sent this had certainly been dedicated to the whole medieval vibe.

He blinks, adjusts his glasses, and actually starts to read what’s written. He doesn’t even make it past the first line before he drops it in shock.

“What the _fuck_ ,” he says.

“Thats 20 cents in the swear jar,” May and Ben say simultaneously.

  
  
  


“Platform nine-and-three-quarters? That doesn’t exist.”

“May,” Ben says, with the longsuffering air of someone who would very much like to close their eyes and count to ten, except they can’t due to how they’re currently driving in rush hour downtown traffic and therefore must remain focused on the road lest they rear end a double-decker bus full of tourists, “we are about to drop our wizard nephew off to board the wizard train that will take him to wizard school. Last week, we bought his wizard school supplies from a hidden wizard alley that was somehow behind a brick wall in the middle of London -”

“Okay, I get it,” May laughs.

“- so at this point, a hidden wizard train stop really shouldn’t be all too surprising.”

May holds her hands up in surrender, but she’s grinning. “Alright, alright, jeez.”

Peter shifts in the backseat. Their 2001 Ford Fiesta doesn’t have a ton of space to begin with, so it’s really cramped with his luggage in it, even though Peter’s a pretty small eleven-year-old. He has to keep his shoulder bag on his lap and his knees tucked up towards his chest for the whole journey to Kings Cross, which is _not_ the most comfortable position. Plus, the aircon in the backseat has been busted for years, and even with the windows rolled down, the heavy mugginess of September is making him kinda sweaty, enough that he’s uncomfortable. 

Luckily, it’s a relatively short journey to the station. Thank God they don’t have to drive all the way up to the school in Scotland. Peter’s pretty sure he would sweat himself to death.

The car ride passes in a relative blur. Peter is still busy trying to process the whole wizard thing, even twenty-odd days after he’d received the message via bird post. He’s going to _wizard boarding school_ . In _Scotland_ . What the _heck._ That’s not an actual thing that happens to people, and certainly not to someone like _Peter_ . Part of him is still waiting for the camera crew to appear with a TV host jumping out from behind bushes, saying _You’ve been pranked! Wizards aren’t real, idiot_. 

But now he’s seen a street appear out of nowhere. He’s bought actual, real textbooks with titles like _Beginners Guide to Transfiguration_ and _The Standard Book of Spells, Twentieth Edition_. 

As crazy as it sounds, this is actually happening. 

Before he knows it, they’re pulling up to the station and Ben is parking the car. Steering his tolley of luggage through the crowded platforms is a challenge, but together they manage to push through the throngs of people to the wall between platforms 9 and 10. And then they just... stand there. Awkwardly.

“So,” May says, “what do we do now?”

“We could ask someone,” Ben suggests.

“Good idea, if you fancy a stint in a psychiatrist office. Peter, do you see anything?”

Peter shakes his head. He opens his mouth to reply, but before he can say anything, a voice speaks right beside him, making him jump.

“Are you going to Hogwarts? Please say yes, or I’m gonna sound insane.”

Peter turns to look at who spoke. It’s a short, chubby Fillipino kid who looks around his age. He’s wearing a fedora that’s slightly too big for him so it’s sitting rather low on his head, but other than that he looks relatively normal.

“Yeah,” Peter replies after a moment, “do you know how to get to the platform? I can’t see it.”

“Oh, yeah, you just have to run through the wall between Platform 9 and 10,” the kid says, nonchalantly, like that’s normal. “Don’t worry, if your parents are Muggles they’ll still be able to come through. My cousin’s girlfriend is a Muggleborn, and her parents drop her off every year.”

“Uh,” Peter starts. There was a lot to unpack in that sentence, least of all the straight-faced suggestion of running through a brick wall. “How ‘bout you go through first?”

The platform on the other side of the wall is crowded and loud. Peter looks around with wide eyes, taking in the scarlet steam engine, the clusters of people dotted around, and the weird clothing. One woman has a bonsai apple tree on her hat, which May gets a kick out of.

The kid who had brought them through is over to the side, talking to people that Peter assumes are his family, given how he spots at least two more fedoras being worn. Peter can see a few other kids who seem to be around his age, looking around the platform with the same expression he knows he has. They must be - what was the word again? Muggleborns? Whatever that means. He’s assuming it has something to do with non-magical people, but that’s just a guess on his part. 

A whistle blast pierces through the air. Peter looks around as kids start hugging their families and loading their luggage onto the train, and turns back towards Ben and May.

“Oh, kiddo,” May says, reaching her arms around him to pull him into a hug. “Are you sure you have everything? Your inhaler? Those fuzzy socks that you seem to love -”

“Yes, May,” he says into her shoulder. 

She pulls away after another moment and looks at him with teary eyes. Peter wants to make fun of her for it, except he can’t, because he feels the same way.

“C’mere, slugger,” Ben says, pulling him in for a hug. He ruffles Peter’s hair with the knuckles of one hand, dislodging his glasses. “You’re gonna have the best time, I just know it.”

“Remember to write us,” May says.

“I know. I will. I love you,” Peter says.

He hugs them each one last time, before he grabs his trunk and loads it onto the train. He gives them one final wave as he hops up the staircase, and sees them standing together, one hand waving at him, the other wrapped around each other’s shoulders. He smiles, then starts walking down the train corridor. 

He only makes it past a few half-empty compartments before a door slides open down the hall. The kid from the platform sticks his head out. He’s removed the fedora, which Peter thinks is probably for the best. “Hey! Wanna sit with us?”

“Uh, sure,” Peter says. He follows the kid into the compartment, grateful that he doesn’t have to try and find his own empty one. He’s not sure exactly how many compartments the train has, but he figures he’d have to end up sharing with _someone_ , and considering how _Peter Parker_ could easily function as a synonym for _socially awkward_ , he knows that wouldn’t have gone down all too well.

“I’m Ned, and that’s Liz,” the kid says once Peter’s sat down on the bench, pointing to the compartment’s third occupant. She’s a pretty girl who looks to be around his age, with brown skin and wide brown eyes. “We’re family friends.”

“I’m Peter,” he introduces himself. “Are you guys first years?”

Ned nods, but Liz shakes her head. “I’m in second year,” she says. “Ravenclaw.”

“Oh,” Peter says. Then, “Uh, what’s a Ravenclaw?”

“Oh! It’s one of the four houses,” Ned begins, before launching into an explanation of the different houses of Hogwarts and their meaning.

Peter settles down in his seat, and listens amusedly as Ned talks. He catches Liz’s eye for a moment, and they grin together, as if they’re both in on some shared joke, and for the first time since he opened up that letter back in his apartment, Peter doesn’t worry about being alone at Hogwarts.

  
  
  


The Great Hall is huge. It’s possibly the biggest room he’s ever seen. He could fit, like, six of his apartments inside it easily. His yearmates seem to share in his awe as they look around with parted lips and wide eyes, whispering quietly among themselves before an intimidating woman with exceptionally vibrant red hair tells them to be quiet. 

The Sorting Ceremony begins and Peter listens along idly, clapping as people get sorted. He doesn’t really know what house he wants to be in. Ned had been certain he was destined for Hufflepuff, as his family had a history of being Sorted there, but Liz had pointed out that “family doesn’t always guarantee house,” and Peter didn’t think he was well-informed enough to weigh in on the topic so he had just stayed quiet.

He wonders which house May and Ben would be in. May would probably be a Gryffindor, he muses, and from Ned’s description of Hufflepuff, he thinks Ben would fit in there. Still deep in thought, he claps along as “Bishop, Katherine” joins the cacophony that is the Gryffindor table, while “Brant, Elizabeth” sits at the more subdued, yet still excited Hufflepuff table.

Okay, he’ll admit it, he zones out for a little bit. He tries to pay attention to the names that go in each house in case they’re his future house-slash-roommates, but somewhere between “Davis, Brad” (Gryffindor) and “Ionello, Jason” (Hufflepuff), he checks out. He gets jolted back to awareness when “Jones, Michelle” accidentally bumps into his shoulder on her way up to the stage. She doesn’t stumble, though, and Peter watches (much in the same way as he stared around the Great Hall) as she strides to the stool in the center of the stage, sits down with immaculate posture, and doesn’t even blink when the Sorting Hat is placed atop of her curly dark hair.

“Slytherin!” the Hat calls after a few seconds. Peter blinks dazedly, and remembers to clap as she’s halfway towards the table on the far right of the Hall.

He continues to look over in the direction of the Slytherin table from “Keener, Harley” (Ravenclaw) to “Lang, Cassandra” (Hufflepuff). When “Leeds, Edward” is called, though, he tears his gaze away to watch as Ned bounds up to the stool with barely restrained excitement. The Hat barely touches his head before it calls out “Hufflepuff!”

Peter cheers. He catches his gaze drifting back towards the Slytherin table, and shakes his head.

Before he knows it, his own name gets announced and he walks across the stage to sit down on the stool. The Hat is placed on top of his head, and he startles once it starts _talking_ to him. Inside of his _brain_. Wizard school is wild.

He’s not put into Hufflepuff, and he’s sad for a moment that he won’t be in the same house as Ned, but when the Hat shouts out “Gryffindor!” and he takes a seat at the cheering table on the far end of the hall he feels himself grinning, just one more smiling face at the table. The nervousness and fear that had been weighing down his stomach since he said goodbye to Ben and May gives way to something warmer and brighter that grows from deep inside his chest. Something that feels a lot like hope. Something that could maybe, possibly, turn into happiness.

  
  
  


Hogwarts is confusing and ancient and the staircases move of their own free will. Peter tries valiantly to learn the pattern, but gives up after a few days when he finds out there’s a staircase that fully vanishes if it’s raining on a Tuesday. He knows when to cut his losses.

Once his classes start, though, they more than make up for the Staircases From Hell. His first class, Double Potions, is with the Slytherins, so he sits beside a kid named Harry and tries to pay attention to Professor Banner’s introduction to the course instead of Michelle Jones, who is sat a row in front of him. (He’s about ninety percent successful.) 

The two houses split up on their way out of the dungeons: the Gryffindors have Defence, while the Slytherins have a free block. 

Peter had been looking forward to Defence for the whole weekend. According to Ned, the teacher, Professor Rogers, was “one of the most badass people ever to exist, but also like super chill”. (He was also the Head of Gryffindor. Peter still didn’t really know what that exactly that meant, but he wondered if it would make him favour his house. He hoped not. That would be unfair.) And the class actually turns out to be really interesting, even when Professor Rogers does nothing but outline the year; so interesting, in fact, that Peter doesn’t even realize how hungry he is until the class is over.

At lunch he sits with Ned at the Hufflepuff table because they haven’t seen each other all day, and Ned talks about his own Potions class where one Ravenclaw girl had answered all of Professor Banner’s questions, even ones that had supposedly been OWL-level. Peter hopes that not everyone at Hogwarts is that smart - he worries, briefly, that him not being raised in the Wizarding World will mean he’s at a disadvantage, but from the way Ned describes it no one else in the class knew what the Ravenclaw had been talking about either so he reckons that he’s alright.

Muggle Studies is alright. Professor Barton seems like a good teacher, but Peter can’t help being bored in class, considering he already knows what they’ll be learning. On the flip side, though, Transfiguration begins with Professor Romanoff displaying her abilities as a Metamorphmagus (Peter resolves to look that skill up later in the library, it’s just so _neat_ ), and it stays entertaining from there. He has a free hour before dinner so he hangs around the other first-year Gryffindors in the common room, and they all trek down the innumerable staircases to dinner together. Peter catches himself looking at the Hufflepuff table, but he sees Ned talking animatedly with another first-year (Elizabeth Brant, he remembers from the Sorting) so he doesn’t feel too bad about eating with his housemates.

And before Peter knows it, he’s back in his dormitory after his first day of learning magic, listening to Brad chatter with someone about Potions class, of all things. Peter closes his eyes, and lets sleep wash over him. 

  
  
  


“Charms,” Professor Stark says, “are spells that change the nature of an object. They can be simple, like the Colour-Changing charm, or complex, like the Bird-Conjuring charm. They can have devastating effects, like the Memory charm, but they can also save your life, like the Patronus and the Fieldus. However, despite how varied charms can be, the one feature they all share is that they all cause a change in the state of being.”

Professor Stark glances out around the classroom. He is… very short, Peter thinks, although he knows he’s not exactly one to talk. He’s also very loud, and very expressive with his gesticulating. And he’s also the first teacher so far to begin their class with an actual lecture.

“Now,” he continues, “I hate to be the boring no-fun kind of teacher, I really do… but not enough to _not_ assign homework for you guys, sorry. I want twelve inches on your thoughts of how charms work. No right or wrong answers, just speculation. Sound good?”

The class gives a resigned, muttered agreement. Peter shares a mournful glance with Brad.

“Good,” Professor Stark says brightly. He claps his hands. “Alrighty-ho! Now we can move onto the fun stuff. Are you excited? Who am I kidding, of course you are. You’re about to do some _magic_ , baby! So, the first charm we’ll learn is the Levitation charm. The incantation is _wingardium leviosa_ , and the wand movement looks like this…”

The honeymoon phase is apparently over, and it’s only the second day. Homework gets piled onto them in every class, each professor prefacing their assignments with some variation of “Now, I know it’s only your second day, but…” 

Peter’s not too bothered, though. He’d been in the ‘advanced’ stream in school, and so he’s used to having a lot of homework to grind through. He is however worried about the _novelty_ of the subjects and classes. The kind of stuff he’s learning now isn’t exactly going to build on any of his previous ‘Muggle’ knowledge; things like science and math are all but useless here. Which sucks, because Peter actually _likes_ science and math. And not only did he like those subjects, he was good at them. _Really good_.

So, well, he tries to use as much of his Muggle knowledge to help him out where he can. He’ll try anything to make sure he understands his classes. He’s a smart kid, always has been, and he wants to continue that trend, thanks.

Before Peter knows it, the first week of classes is over. He has three essays and five assignments to complete, but his whole grade is in the same (rapidly sinking) boat, and Peter doesn’t like to brag, but he’s pretty sure he’s the only Gryffindor first year that’s started _any_ of it.

Ned thinks he’s insane. Which is fine, because right now, Peter thinks _Ned_ is insane for being nervous about Flying class.

“You don’t understand,” Ned says as they make their way to the Quidditch (? Peter doesn’t know what that is. He’s excited to find out, but also slightly scared.) Pitch for their first Flying lesson on the bright Saturday morning, a week after the start of class. “It’s _scary_.”

“So you’ve ridden a broom before?” Peter asks.

“Well, yeah, but I sucked.”

“But you’ve practiced,” Peter reasons, “which is more than I’ve done, so you won’t be the worst one out there!” 

“Yeah, you don’t know that,” Ned mutters darkly.

They step out onto the vibrantly green grass and separate as they join their respective houses. The whole year is out on the pitch right now, taking the class as a group, and it’s the first time that Peter’s seen some people since the Sorting Ceremony over a week prior. Granted, the castle is huge, but Peter suspects that the unforgiving amounts of homework dumped on them has also had something to do with the lack of interaction between his yearmates.

He looks around the pitch, his gaze catching briefly on the Slytherin section on the far end of the field, but before he can make out any familiar faces in the group, Professor Odinson calls for their attention. His long golden hair is pulled away from his face with a few loose strands escaping the loose ponytail and blowing in the slight breeze. He’s holding a broom that is, like, two Peters in height, which makes sense, given that Professor Odinson is so tall that he could probably step on Peter without noticing. Peter hadn’t really believed it when he’d found out that Professor Odinson was their _History of Magic_ teacher, of all things. He’d thought the guy would’ve been the Hogwarts security guard, or something. Not teaching a subject like _History of Magic_. 

And, apparently, Flying.

Professor Odinson tells them to line up behind the rows of brooms. When Peter says “Up!” his broom rises obediently into his outstretched hand, much to his delight. He’s not the only successful one: at least three kids from every house manage to call their broom. Ned’s, Peter notices, remains stubbornly on the grass.

The class progresses until everyone but Ned has managed to get their broom to fly into their hand. “It’s no matter,” Professor Odinson says jovially, clapping Ned on the shoulder. Ned stumbles at the contact. “Everyone learns at their own rate. Say, Mister Leeds, would you be alright with continuing this practice while I coach everyone through some basic maneuvers?”

Peter’s pretty sure that it’s not _meant_ to be a public conversation, but Professor Odinson has a booming voice that carries easily over the assembled first years. He watches Ned grimace, before he shrugs resignedly. “Sure, yeah.”

Professor Odinson pats Ned’s shoulder once more, making him stumble. “Good lad!”

Peter tries to keep an eye out on Ned as he hovers in the air, but he gets a bit of vertigo whenever he looks down for too long, so it’s not easy. He’s not scared of heights, at least he’s never been scared before (he’s lived practically his whole life on the sixth floor of his apartment complex; it’s not exactly _close_ to the ground), but there’s something about the lack of ground beneath his feet that makes his stomach feel all weird and upside down. And besides, he keeps having to take his glasses off and rub them on his shirt when they get fogged up, meaning he has to hold onto his broomstick with only his knees, which is certainly one of the more terrifying things that he’s ever experienced.

So what he’s trying to say is that he’s not exactly paying attention when the kid goes crashing into Ned. He does manage to hear Ned’s shout of “Holy _shit_!”, however. So does Professor Odinson.

“Mister Thompson, what were you doing?” the professor booms as he lands on the ground, striding over to where the second kid is brushing grass off his shoulder.

Peter flies over in a surprisingly straight line. He notices that Michelle Jones heads in their direction as well, except she actually lands on the grass and walks over towards the confrontation.

The kid - Thompson - shrugs with the shoulder that’s not covered in grass. “I was practicing my dives, Professor,” he answers, and ooh, if Peter doesn’t recognize the way he’s speaking to the Professor. It’s the exact cadence that all the bullies in Peter’s old school would use with the teachers when they knew they weren’t going to get in trouble for tripping a kid (read: Peter) in the hallway.

Peter grinds his teeth and tightens his grip on his broom. Something in him doesn’t like the look of this Thompson guy. He doesn’t like bullies, period.

Neither, apparently, does Professor Odinson, judging by the way he raises an eyebrow. “Do you recall me saying you were to be practicing turns _only_?” he asks.

“Well, yes, sir, but you see, I’ve already practiced flying before, as opposed to Leeds, here -”

“Oh, shove off, Flash,” Ned says, rolling his eyes. Peter blinks at his use of the apparent nickname (hopefully it’s a nickname, and the kid’s name isn’t actually _Flash_ ). “Just because you can fly a broom doesn’t mean you can suddenly attempt a Wronski Feint -”

“You wouldn’t know, would you? Considering you can’t even get yours off the ground -”

“We get it, _Eugene_ ,” says Michelle Jones, cutting into the conversation. Peter blinks. He hadn’t noticed her get that close to the altercation. “You’re a trustfund toddler who’s had his Father pay for private flying lessons since you were five. Can you come up with something else?”

“Uh, I don’t remember asking for your opinion, _Michelle_.”

“Weird, ‘cause I don’t remember Leeds asking you to slam into him.”

“Well maybe he should’ve moved out of the way, then!”

“Or you could also just watch where you’re going -”

“Enough!” Professor Odinson shouts, effectively shutting them all up.

Peter hovers nearby with a group of people, confused but intrigued. 

“That’ll be detention, Mr. Thompson,” Professor Odinson continues, “and you will have to report to your Head of House - Professor Romanoff, I believe?”

The smug expression slides off of Flash’s face. He glares at Professor Odinson, his upper lip curled into an ugly sneer. “Wait, you’re giving _me_ detention because Leeds was too fat to get out of the way in time?” 

...Peter sees red.

Afterwards, he’s not exactly sure what even happened. He doesn’t remember tilting his broom towards the ground, or his feet touching down onto the grass. All he knows is that one second, he was hovering a couple of meters away from the whole confrontation, then in the next, he’s punching the Thompson kid square in the nose. 

(In the moment, a part of him remembers to be grateful for Ben teaching him how to throw a punch.)

His fist connects with a satisfying _smack_ , right on the bridge of the Thompson kid’s nose, and blood goes _everywhere_ and then Ned is pulling Peter back while Peter shouts “What the _hell_ did you just say?”

“Peter, Peter, _calm down_ , c’mon,” Ned is saying, his hands on Peter’s shoulders, and Professor Odinson is yelling something, hopefully not at Peter (but probably at Peter), and then some Ravenclaw that Peter’s seen in the hallways shouts “Yo, Flash was just punched!” and everything pretty much spirals out of control from there.

  
  
  


Peter walks out of Professor Rogers’ office with the knuckles on his right hand aching and his head spinning.

Professor Rogers hadn’t even been _mad_ , and that was the confusing thing. Most teachers in Peter’s past had always punished whoever threw the first punch the worst, but that hadn’t been the case this time, Peter thinks. Okay, yeah, he _had_ been given detention, but Professor Rogers had seemed sympathetic, actually listening to Peter’s story and considering his words instead of just jumping the gun and throwing punishments left and right. 

Peter flexes his hand, wincing as a twinge arcs up his arm. The skin across his knuckles is an angry red, and Peter’s been in enough fights before to know that it’ll be bruised within a day. He’s just glad he didn’t split skin - there would’ve been no way to avoid the hospital wing if he had, and he knew that Flash (really, what a _stupid_ nickname) would likely be there as well, getting his nose fixed, and Peter knows that if he runs into Flash again the two of them probably won’t get out of the interaction any better than they had the first time.

He sighs, nudging his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and looks around. Hogwarts is a maze at the best of times, and now Peter’s tired, angry, hungry, and confused. He’ll be lucky if he finds his way back to the Gryffindor common room before midnight -

“You lost?” someone says behind him.

Peter whirls around and finds himself face to face with Michelle Jones. “Um,” he says. “No?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that,” she asks flatly.

Peter sighs again, deflating. “Fine, yes, I’m lost.”

Michelle hums. “That’s too bad,” she says after a moment, before turning around and walking down the hallway. Her robes are slightly on the long side, and the hem drags on the floor behind her as she walks.

“No, hey, wait up!” Peter calls, jogging to catch up to her. “Uh, I’m Peter, by the way,” he says once he’s beside her.

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Mhm.”

“How?”

“None of your business.”

“Is it the same way that you knew that Flash’s name is Eugene?” Peter asks.

Michelle raises an eyebrow again and glances at him. “Some of us actually paid attention at the Sorting Ceremony,” she replies instead of answering his question.

“Oh. Um, I did too. Pay attention, that is. I guess I musta just. Missed it.”

“Mhm.”

Peter narrows his gaze. “You don’t believe me,” he accuses.

“What?” Michelle asks. “No, I just don’t care.” They round a corner. “D’you know my name?”

“You’re Michelle,” Peter blurts after a moment's pause. “You’re - Slytherin.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Was it the tie or the attitude that gave it away?” 

“No, I told you,” Peter says, “I paid attention in the Sorting ceremony.”

“Hm.” Michelle doesn’t pause in her stride as she asks “So, did Professor Rogers yell at you?”

“What? No, he didn’t yell at me, he said he’d probably had done the same thing if he was in my situation. But he did give me detention. I think he had to.” They pass a statue of a woman holding a dog, both wearing an odd hat adorned with feathers. “What about you?”

Michelle snorts. “Nah, Professor Romanoff just gave me a high five.”

“What?” Peter sputters. They round another corner. Peter has no idea where they’re going, but Michelle is walking with intent, so he’s fairly certain that _she’s_ not lost, at least. “That is so unfair! I got detention, and you -”

“Well, you did punch him.”

“- I - okay, that’s true, I guess.”

“Why’d you do that, anyways?” she asks.

“I -” Peter looks around at the paintings on the walls instead of Michelle. “He was being mean to Ned, and Ned’s my friend.” He shrugs. “I don’t like bullies.”

“Right,” he sees Michelle nod out of the corner of his eye, her curls bouncing up and down with the movement. “Punching. So _manly_.”

Peter gasps, mock affronted. “Well, sorry for not calling him a - what was it?”

“Trustfund toddler,” Michelle says, eyes gleaming wistfully as if recalling her moment of glory.

“Yeah, that. How’d you even know that about him, though?”

Michelle shrugs. “His dad’s pretty well known in, uh, _certain communities_ for being filthy rich. I just guessed.”

“Well, it was a good guess,” Peter says. “Clever.”

“I am clever.”

“Is that so?”

“I’d sure hope so, considering how much I read.”

“Maybe you shoulda been in Ravenclaw, then, that’s the smarty house right?”

Michelle makes a face. “Ew, I don’t read for the _knowledge_ ,” she says with a tone of comical disgust. “Gross. No, books are just... easy,” she says, quirking her lips up in a sardonic half-smile.

“Easier than people?” Peter asks. He blinks after the question leaves his mouth. He’s not quite sure he meant to say that.

She looks at him for a moment, tilting her head slightly. A stray curl falls across her forehead. “Depends on the book. Or the person.”

Peter takes a breath, looking away. He studies the painting in front of him of a dog sitting on a chair. “Well,” he says, “if you ever need - or want, or, or _whatever_ \- a library buddy, I’d, uh. Be down.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Michelle falter, but she doesn’t respond. They round another corner and climb up a staircase that starts moving once they step on it. Peter grabs ahold of the handrail to steady himself, but Michelle keeps walking unhindered. 

“I don’t really need a library buddy,” she says.

“Oh.” 

“But,” Michelle continues slowly, “I guess it’d be nice to not read alone sometimes.”

“Oh. Oh!” Peter exclaims. He grins. “Yeah, I - yeah. Same here. Yep. Sweet.”

“Cool.”

“Very cool.” The staircase stops moving, and Peter realizes it’s taken them to the hallway that leads towards the Fat Lady painting that serves as the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. He glances at Michelle. “Wait, how’d you know where our common room is? I thought only Gryffindors were supposed to know.”

She smiles at him slightly, one corner of her mouth lifting. “I’m just observant,” she says, beginning down the other direction of the hallway. “I’ll see you around, Peter.”

Peter blinks at her retreating figure, and belatedly remembers to call out a “See you!” right before she disappears down the hallway, robes sweeping the floor behind her as she walks out of sight.

  
  
  


Professor Rogers stops Peter in the hallway on Wednesday morning to tell him, not unkindly, that his detention will be held that evening with Professor Stark, and Peter spends the rest of the day having one extended panic attack.

The thing is, Peter just doesn’t do well with failure - not that punching Flash had been a failure; it was a resounding success if you ask Peter, _thankyouverymuch_ \- and to him, disappointing any authority figure reads as a failure, whether or not it actually _is_ one _._ And it doesn’t really help his case that he’s kind of intimidated by Professor Stark. Not that Professor Stark is scary in any way; it’s more of the casual way he displays his intelligence that has Peter in awe. Anyways, this is all just to lead up to how by the time evening finally rolls around, Peter is entirely steeped in full-fledged panic mode as he walks up to the Charms classroom.

Peter knocks softly on the wooden door, and pushes it open when he hears Professor Stark’s call of “Come in!”

“Mister Parker,” Professor Stark greets as he steps into the classroom. “Take a seat.”

Peter takes a seat in the chair directly across from the desk that Professor Stark is perched upon, his burgundy robes folded over the back of the chair behind the desk. His white dress shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, and the matching burgundy tie is loosely tied around his neck. His casual energy is the direct opposite of Peter’s internal tension; Peter can feel the collar of his own shirt biting into his neck where the top button is fastened, tie tightened the way Ben had taught him in the weeks before coming to Hogwarts.

“So,” Professor Stark says. He reclines, resting his body weight on his arms behind him. “Your Charms essay, the one you handed in yesterday. Explain.”

“Um,” Peter blinks. That… hadn’t been what he was expecting this detention to be at all. He swallows, pushing down the nervousness that had begun rising when he realized that he might’ve completely screwed up his first essay of the year, and tries to begin explaining. “It’s, uh, you wanted us to write about how we think charms work?”

“I am aware of this, yes.”

“Yeah, so I… did.”

Professor Stark levels him a look. “But where did your idea _come_ from, what inspired you?”

Peter thinks back to writing that essay. He had used concepts that he was familiar with from some of his science classes back in school, and he had thought it was fine, but now he’s starting to feel unsure of his writing. “Um, chemistry, mostly, it’s a, uh, Muggle science? Like, I was just thinking about how charms change the nature of something, like you said in class, and it reminded me of something I’d learned in my Muggle school about chemical reactions and how they need energy to happen.” He hesitates, looking at the unreadable expression on Professor Stark’s face. “Was… is that wrong? Sir?”

“Is that _wrong_?” Professor Stark shakes his head, but his lips seem to be stretching into a slight grin. “First of all, I told you at the start of the assignment that there were no wrong answers, but even disregarding that, you, Mister Parker,” he slides off the desk and moves to stand behind it, leaning forward eagerly as he rests his arms on the wood, “you managed to not only hint at, but fully explain a concept of magical theory that has been researched for years, with just twelve inches of parchment and barely any academic understanding of charms, let alone magic as a whole. Do you want me to tutor you in charms so that you can research it further?”

Peter looks at him, shocked. “Wait, what? Do I - yeah, of course, I - is this even a detention, or did you just want an excuse to talk to me?”

Professor Stark barks out a laugh. “It actually was, until I read your absolutely _brilliant_ essay, and bribed Rogers into letting me cover it.”

“You bribed Professor Rogers?”

“What?” He flaps a hand dismissively. “No, who would do such a thing. I just asked nicely.” 

Peter snorts before he can stop himself. 

“ _Anyways_ ,” Professor Stark continues, “Now. I want to see where you’re at. Break down everything you know about energy and how you think it could relate to magic, specifically charms. Feel free to use the blackboard.” When Peter remains sitting, startled into stillness, at his desk, he gestures with his hands in the air. “C’mon, _vamanos_ , chop chop!”

Peter scrambles to his feet and goes to the blackboard behind Professor Stark’s desk, who moves out of his way. “Uh, well, I was initially inspired by the reactions in chemistry that either create or use up heat, depending on the reaction’s energy? I think? I never really learned much about it in school, but I remembered reading that energy can’t just be made, that it has to come from somewhere. And, like, charms use energy because they change stuff, like you said in class, and that’s like the chemistry reactions that need heat to change stuff, and then I just thought, what if magic was its own kind of energy? So that when you cast a spell, the energy changes into another type, like heat, or light, or, or movement, like the Levitation Charm we did in that first class...” He trails off, noticing the way Professor Stark is looking at him with his head tilted. “What?” he asks.

The small grin on Professor Stark blossoms into a full blown smile. “The fact that you are not in Ravenclaw is going to haunt me forever,” he says, and it’s slightly awkward, and Peter might hesitate initially, but he really can’t stop the responding grin that breaks out on his face. Not that he really tries to.

  
  
  


Classes continue, and Peter finds himself settling into an easy routine. None of his classes have been too difficult as of yet, which still surprises him, and he’s taken to Charms especially well. He continues to see Professor Stark on intermittent evenings each week, telling Ned that it’s for help with the more “magical” aspects of their lesson. Which isn’t exactly wrong, per se - Professor Stark _is_ actually helping him get a solid grasp on magical theory, just… not the things they’re covering in class.

The rhythm of studying carries on. Ned doesn’t bring up the incident in Flying class, and Peter doesn’t ask him about it. His friendship with Ned, while definitely _there_ , is still in its early stages. Peter doesn’t want to do anything to damage their relationship, and he _really_ doesn’t want to push any boundaries. It’s the same way with Michelle, whenever he does manage to see her between classes. He doesn’t talk to her often, but when he does it’s only light, easy conversation.

September comes and goes, and October passes in much the same fashion of studying and chatting easily with his classmates. He learns things about his Professors, too, like how Professor Romanoff likes to tease Professor Rogers about his beard and “dad sweaters” and how Professor Banner and Professor Odinson share the unlikeliest but also sweetest friendship that Peter has literally ever seen, complete with a secret handshake that Professor Odinson is wont to display at any moment. 

Halloween soon hits in a flurry of pumpkin-themed items. No one dresses up, which is a shame (yet understandable - it falls on a Wednesday, after all), but the fun inter-year gathering in the Gryffindor common room easily makes up for that. A third year named Wanda teaches Peter how to play exploding snap, and then gets him to join a few rounds of wizarding Jenga, where each block is charmed to affect the person to remove it in some way. Peter makes a mental note of this to talk about it in a future session with Professor Stark - something about how the wood can be used to store potential magical energy is nagging at his brain, but he just can’t seem to put his finger on what exactly it is.

With the start of November brings colder weather, and also the first Quidditch match of the year. Which is how Peter finds himself in the stands, bundled up in a Gryffindor scarf, jostling for a position between Brad and some second year he doesn’t know.

The teams walk out onto the pitch and the crowd cheers. Peter scans the players, trying to assess who’s playing the different positions. He’s read up more on Quidditch since his first Flying lesson, and has found that he actually quite likes the idea of the sport, at least in theory. It seems confusing, but still a ton of fun to both play and watch, and he can’t wait to finally see a match take place with his own eyes.

The captains shake hands in the center of the field, and with a shriek of a whistle, the players soar up into the sky.

“And we’re off! Welcome everyone to the very first game of the 2012-2013 Quidditch season. For those firsties who haven’t had the pleasure-slash-misfortune of meeting me, my name is Wade, and I will be commentating on the match for those of you who can’t be assed - sorry, _bothered_ \- to understand Quidditch. I get it, it’s a confusing sport. I’m here for you, and I support you, yes, _you_. Anyways, this Slytherin-Gryffindor game is already off to a rambunctious start, with Gryffindor Chaser Wanda Maximoff getting practically nailed by two consecutive bludgers from the Slytherin Beating duo. Heh, the bludgers probably aren’t the only thing that those two beat, if you know what I - only joking, Professor Romanoff!”

Peter watches across the pitch as Professor Romanoff, visible through the lively crowd because of her distinct head of red hair, moves towards the commentator’s box. He doesn’t manage to see what happens afterwards, though, because Wanda catches his attention by flying across his path of vision, rolling to dodge another bludger with the quaffle held securely under her arm while gripping her broomstick with her knees.

“Ahem, anyways, yes, Maximoff has already proven why she is a great new addition to the already strong Gryffindor lineup with that lovely modified sloth grip roll, and she’s looking to continue with that streak as she makes quick work of the quaffle, weaving between Slytherin Chasers Chavez and Corazon to dive for the hoops - and she scores!”

The stands around Peter erupt into cheers and screams. Peter finds himself cheering along with them, although he doesn’t follow Brad’s lead and wave his scarf in the air. He’s too cold for that.

“That makes it 10-0 for Gryffindor, come _on_ Slytherin - I am not biased in any way shape or form, but _can we not lose the first game of the season -_ Professor Romanoff, you’re a Slytherin, let’s see some team spirit, I know it’s there -”

The game continues in a frenzy of fast-paced bludgers and even faster Chasers darting back and forth across the pitch. The score remains fairly even - at one point, Slytherin manages a neat streak of goals that has the commentator cheering with extreme bias while the Gryffindor section of the crowd watches with despair, but the Gryffindor team calls a time-out and returns onto the pitch with a renewed vigor, bringing the score back to a tie.

Both Seekers stay out of the thick of the game for the good majority of it, Peter notes with some disappointment. He had read about all the famous Seeker moves and moments throughout Quidditch history before coming to the game, and he thinks that their position is easily the most exciting, given how a Seeker can make or break the game. But these two Seekers have yet to attempt to either make or break this one, and Peter doesn’t understand why. He’s pretty sure he’s seen the Snitch at least three times by this point - okay, maybe that one right by the Slytherin Keeper’s foot could’ve been the sun glinting off of his footrest, but he’s _certain_ that both the time he saw it twenty-something meters below a Gryffindor Beater and flitting around the Slytherin Chasers as they attempted a Parkin’s Pincer (that quickly got aborted due to bludgers being smacked in their direction) had been real. He’s not quite sure why the two Seekers haven’t seen the Snitch at this point - Peter is at least twice their distance from the playing field, and his glasses keep fogging up, but he’s still managed to spot it, so why can’t they?

Eventually, the Gryffindor Seeker does see the Snitch and dives for it, ending the game with Gryffindor in the lead. The commentator dramatically mourns Slytherin’s tragic loss for a good five minutes, which has Peter laughing as he makes his way off the stands.

Brad drags him into the moping Slytherin section to talk to a couple of his friends, and Peter spots Michelle picking her way through the crowd. He pulls away from Brad and jogs over to her, telling Brad that he’ll be back when he shoots him a questioning look.

“Hey,” he says as he catches up to her. 

She turns her head and catches his eye, raising an eyebrow. “If you’re here to gloat, I don’t wanna hear it.”

“What? No, I’d never. That was a really good game, though, hey?”

“Yeah. I don’t really like Quidditch, but it was... fun,” she offers.

Peter places a hand over his chest, gasping. “You don’t like Quidditch?” he asks, melodrama keyed all the way up.

“Not really my thing.” She glances at him sideways, and shrugs. “I mean, it’s alright, I guess. This game was good. Shame the Seekers stayed out of it for so long, though, the Snitch wasn’t hard to spot.”

“Or maybe you saw it because you were paying close attention because you’re secretly obsessed with Quidditch.”

Michelle snorts. “Yeah, that’s unlikely. I already told you, I’m observant.”

Peter hums, questioningly. “Most people aren’t “observant” enough to spot the Snitch from the stands -”

“- would you stop -”

“- so I think you should just admit that you actually love Quidditch -”

“- you’re acting like you also didn’t see the Snitch a couple of times -”

“- just give - wait, what? How’d you know I spotted -”

“Hey Peter!” Ned says, appearing out of nowhere behind Peter and startling him so badly that he almost jumps three meters into the air.

“Hi, Ned,” he replies, nudging his glasses back from where they shifted to.

Ned beams at him, seemingly unaware of the heart attack that he just gave Peter. “That was a brilliant game, hey? Those Seekers could’ve been a bit more active, but I guess I can’t really blame them ‘cause the Snitch _was_ M.I.A. for most of the game.”

Peter blinks. “Uh, yeah,” he says. “Um, Ned, this is Michelle, and Michelle, this is Ned -”

“We already know each other,” Michelle says. For some reason, her tone has turned darker and clipped, and her expression holds none of the easy lightness it had only a moment before. She glances back at Peter, and says, “I’ll see you around, Parker. Leeds.”

“Uh, bye!” Peter calls out as she disappears back into the sea of people heading back into the castle. He turns to look at Ned. “What was that about?”

Ned’s expression is suddenly unreadable as well. “I’ll tell you later,” he says, “not here”

Peter blinks, confused. He wants to question Ned further, but at that moment, Brad reappears on Peter’s other side, along with the Harry kid who Peter sits beside in Potions. Ned engages them in an animated conversation about the match, and Peter tries to follow along as they trek back towards the castle. He loses the thread of the conversation fairly easily, though: the only thing he can seem to focus on is the way Michelle’s expression had closed off, like she had been drawing the curtains across some metaphorical emotional window.

  
  
  


“What was that all about?” Peter hisses the next day at lunch, sliding into his spot beside Ned at the Hufflepuff table.

They’ve made it a tradition to alternate whose table they eat lunch at every day, since it’s practically the only time outside of Herbology that they get to see each other. 

“What was what all about?” Ned asks, scooping corn onto his plate. 

Peter levels him a Look. “Dude. That whole thing with Michelle yesterday!”

“Oh! Yeah, uh, hmm.” Ned takes a bite of his chicken and keeps talking. “Most of the kids who aren’t Muggleborn already knew each other before we came to Hogwarts - you remember Liz from the train, right?”

Peter nods, not sure where he’s going with this.

“Well, like, we knew each other because our parents were in Hogwarts at the same time - actually, I’m not sure about her dad, but I know both of our moms were in Hogwarts together. Anyways, most wizarding parents who have kids around the same age get them to hang out together in, like, play groups, or small tutoring sessions when they get a bit older -”

“Tutoring?” Peter interrupts. No one mentioned anything about tutoring, what the heck. “What kind? D’you mean, like, Muggle stuff, or -”

“Some Muggle things, sure, like basic Maths and reading and stuff, but also once we do a bit of accidental magic they teach us some spells, potions, really basic things - like, that’s how I knew I was bad at Flying.”

“That - that’s allowed?”

Ned pauses in between mouthfuls of chicken to look at him, confused. “Of course it’s allowed, no one does their first spell actually _at_ Hogwarts.”

“Oh,” Peter replies. He doesn’t say what he’s thinking. Instead, he takes a sip of water and asks, “so, Michelle?”

“Oh, right. Well, her parents were originally all about her hanging out with us when we were kids, until one day they just… stopped. No one knows why, but I’m pretty sure her parents were fighting, or divorcing, or something like that. I dunno, though, and I didn’t see her until we were here, at Hogwarts.”

Peter frowns. “But she defended you against Flash -”

“Yeah, from _Flash_. Everyone knows that Flash is a douchebag. That doesn’t mean we’re friends,” Ned says.

Peter opens his mouth to reply, but before he can Betty Brant sits down on Ned’s other side and asks him to explain their latest Potions essay and that’s the end of that conversation, apparently. Peter doesn’t ask about it any further. He’s curious, of course he is, but he really, really doesn’t want to pry.

He knows Ned will tell him about it if it’s important.

  
  
  


“The professors are acting weirdly,” Michelle greets him one Saturday morning in November.

Peter’s at the library, Charms books spread out in front of him as he tries to stumble through Professor Stark’s latest “extra credit” assignment. “Huh?”

“The professors,” she repeats, pulling out the chair across the table and sitting herself down in it, “are acting weirdly.”

“Okay,” Peter says slowly, turning his gaze back to his parchment. “Uh, thanks for letting me know?”

Michelle huffs and crosses her arms. “Be interested.”

“I am!” Peter exclaimes. Then he remembers that he’s in a library, and continues in a whisper, “I am interested. I just also happen to be interested in this Charms thing -”

“Oh, as if you’re not at the top of the class in Charms. This is important, Parker.”

Peter sighs and puts his quill down, pushing his piece of parchment to the side and turning his full attention on Michelle. “Okay. I’m interested. What’s going on?”

“I dunno, that’s the thing. I just overheard Professor Fury talking to Professor Rogers and Professor Romanoff about ‘working with Hill to keep it safe’.”

“What’s ‘ _it_ ’?”

“That’s the thing!” Michelle repeats in a whisper. “I have no idea. Rogers looked pissed off and I have no clue why. Plus I also saw Professor Barton walking really quickly down the hallway, and he didn’t stop when I said hi. Usually he always stops.”

“Yeah, he usually does,” Peter agrees. “Huh. Weird.”

“I know,” Michelle says with a slightly annoyed huff. “So. What are we going to do about it?”

“What are we - hold on, why do we have to ‘do’ anything about it? It’s probably none of our business!” 

Michelle rolls her eyes. “Fine, whatever. Be boring.”

“Hey, c’mon. I just don’t wanna get involved where I shouldn’t,” Peter says. 

Michelle gives him a glance. “I - okay,” she relents after a moment. “I just - I dunno, when there’s something going on, I always wanna know what’s happening, don’t you?”

The thing is, Peter _does_ want to know what’s going on. So he asks Professor Stark about it at their next session, but it wasn’t really successful in any way (“Professor Rogers usually looks pissed off, it’s his default expression,” Professor Stark had said. “Just kidding, don’t tell him I said that. I dunno what’s happening, but I’ve found that if I only pay attention to the things that directly affect me, everything else will sort itself out. Now, where did you get to on the energy equation?”). He starts paying attention to what the Professors are doing outside the classroom, and sure, some of them are definitely behaving oddly, but Peter’s not so sure that it’s really anything out of the ordinary for them. Professor Rogers _does_ have a tendency to look kind of pissed off at times. Professor Romanoff _always_ glances around a room as she enters it. And yeah, Professor Barton usually does respond to students in the hallways, but he’s also been known to walk briskly when there’s treacle tart in the Dining Hall, so that wasn’t really anything noteworthy, either.

Maybe the teachers just need a vacation, Peter thinks to himself one night before he falls asleep. God knows he does: he’s _exhausted_ from all the homework and extra work he’s been doing. It’s a good thing that Winter Holidays are coming up in a week, then. Everyone just needs to relax for a little while. 

  
  
  


The door to the Charms classroom slams open, loud enough to make Peter accidentally snap the piece of chalk he had been writing with due to how aggressively he startles at the sudden noise. 

He turns around, away from the chalkboard that is covered with scribbles from his half-hearted attempt to write out his thoughts. In the doorway to the classroom stands Professor Rogers in all his blond, righteous glory, his navy robes swirling around him dramatically as he practically stalks into the room. 

“Merlin, Rogers, thanks for the heart attack, but I’m kind of busy -” Professor Stark starts from where he’s sitting on one of the desks in the front row where he had been helping Peter think through the problem at hand. Professor Stark, Peter has noticed, has a tendency to sit on top of places where one is not typically supposed to sit, including desks, the handrails of various staircases, and, on more than one occasion, on top of the Staff table (even during meal times). It’s probably due to how he likes to be tall, Peter suspects, but he never voices his theory out loud (not when Professor Stark is near, anyways).

“Not the time,” Professor Rogers cuts Professor Stark off with a shake of his head. Two more men enter into the room behind him: Professor Odinson with a stormy expression on his face, and, surprisingly, Professor Fury. The headmaster looks _pissed_ , Peter thinks. Usually it’s hard to tell how Professor Fury is feeling, due to both the eyepatch and how he’s generally a pretty stoic guy, but now Peter thinks he can read him plain as day.

If something has worked the headmaster up to the point where he’s actually displaying an expression, it must be pretty big.

And most likely pretty bad.

Peter watches Professor Stark glance back and forth between the three other professors, his eyes narrowing slightly as he registers the expressions on their faces. “What’s going on?” he asks resignedly.

Professor Fury sighs. “The school has just been attacked,” he says, voice like gravel.

Peter gapes. 

“Wait, what?” Professor Stark asks, eyes wide.

“That’s not all,” Professor Rogers says grimly. “Barton is missing.”

Peter all but gasps in shock. His mind whirls as he tries to process what the Headmaster has just said - the school was _attacked_ ? Professor Barton is _missing_ ? That can’t be right, they can’t be serious, things like that don’t just _happen_ at Hogwarts. Ned had told him it was the safest place in all of Britain. People don’t go _missing_ if a place is safe.

“I’m sorry, Barton’s missing? What - when did this happen? _What_ happened?”

“We don’t really know,” Professor Rogers replies. “Just somehow, the attacker managed to breach our wards - not in the castle, only on the grounds, but that’s... still not good. Barton was the first person to see so he alerted the headmaster, but by the time help arrived, he had already vanished.”

The room is silent as Professor Stark absorbs the information. “Does Romanoff know?” he asks quietly. It’s weird, Peter thinks, hearing him speak so seriously without a joke or sarcastic remark peppered between his comments. 

“I told her,” Professor Fury replies.

“I assume she didn’t take it very well.”

Professor Rogers shakes his head. “She… she didn’t, no. She’s working with Auror Hill right now to try and locate him, but… It’s Clint. Of course she’s worried.”

A tense silence settles once more before Peter breaks it, asking a question that had been forming in his head since he first heard that the school had been attacked. “Who on earth would attack Hogwarts?”

The professors all turn to look at him, and startle as they realize he’s been in the room with them the whole time. Which, _ouch_ . Peter knows he’s pretty small, but he’s still, like, a whole _person_ that they didn’t even notice. “Peter, what are you doing here?” Professor Rogers asks. 

“I was helping him with Charms,” Professor Stark answers for him.

“It doesn’t matter,” Peter dismisses. “Who - who would be dumb enough -”

“I don’t think this is stuff you should hear,” Professor Rogers says, gentle yet stern.

“I’ve heard this much already, and I’m gonna find out tomorrow anyways -”

“Kid,” Professor Stark sighs. “It’s probably time for you to go -”

“Professor Stark, c’mon!”

“Let him stay.” It’s Professor Fury, of all people, that comes to Peter’s defence. 

Peter blinks, surprised. “I - thank you. Sir.”

Professor Stark sighs again. “Fine, whatever. He - well, yeah, the kid’s got a point. Who would attack Hogwarts?”

“The only person crazy enough to try,” Professor Odinson says. He had been so silent before that Peter had legitimately forgotten he was even in the room, something that was hard to do considering the sheer amount of space the professor occupied.

Professor Stark’s eyes widen at his statement, and he looks at Professor Odinson with worry written plainly across his face. “No.” He shakes his head. “There’s no way, he’s supposed to be -”

“We were all surprised,” Professor Rogers says. 

“How would that even be possible? Thor, you said he was _dead_ -”

“I am well aware -”

“Can someone please explain who you’re talking about?” Peter exclaims, frustrated. 

The professors share a glance, then look around the room, avoidant. Professor Stark doesn’t meet Peter’s eyes.

Professor Odinson sighs, the quiet sound managing to echo like a thunderclap in the silence. “The attacker was my brother,” he admits finally, his voice a low rumble. The air in the classroom seems to chill as he speaks. “His name is Loki. Loki Odinson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter-specific warnings: flash makes a fatphobic remark (same paragraph as "the smug expression slides off Flash's face"); minor canon-typical violence (ie flash gets punched in the face as a result of said remark).
> 
> let me know what you thought about this first chapter! i've been working on this fic for a while and have it all planned out. we're going all the way through to endgame with this bad boy, i hope you're all excited :)


	2. interstice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets a few crash courses in Wizarding World History, celebrates the holidays, and worries about things far beyond his pay grade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any recognizable dialogue (+ paraphrased) is taken from The Avengers (2012)  
> see chapter end notes for chapter-specific warnings

**02\. Interstice:  
An intervening space, particularly a very small one.**

Peter glances back and forth between the professors in the room, before admitting, “Um, I don’t know who that is.”

“What?” Professor Stark startles. “How could you - right. You’re Muggle-raised. You wouldn’t.”

Peter is starting to get tired of constantly not knowing important things because of how he grew up. “Yeah,” he replies, irritation making its way into his voice despite his attempts to keep it out, “so could you maybe explain -”

“He’s a crazy dark wizard -”

“Be careful of how you speak, Stark,” Professor Odinson interrupts, bristiling, his stormcloud expression darkening. “Loki may be beyond reason, but he is still my brother.”

“Alright, alright,” Professor Stark raises his hands up in surrender. “Sorry.  _ Merlin _ . Anyways,” he turns his attention towards Peter, “Loki Odinson used to work in a group of terror-wizards. The… Aurors,” he decides on the word, glancing quickly towards Professor Rogers, who continues to listen with a decidedly blank expression, “managed to capture him and put him in Azkaban - you do know about Azkaban, right?” 

Peter shakes his head.

Professor Stark raises an eyebrow. “Really? Wow, someone should really make a pamphlet or something -”

“Azkaban is the high-security wizarding prison,” Professor Rogers says, leveling a sideways look at Professor Stark. 

“I was getting to that, Rogers,. Professor Rogers rolls his eyes, which Professor Stark ignores. “Anyways, Loki died trying to escape from Azkaban about a year ago. Well, supposedly died, I guess, since apparently he’s alive and well enough to attack Hogwarts -”

“He’s dangerous,” Professor Fury cuts Professor Stark off with a glare that’s no less effective even though it’s only coming from one eye. 

Professor Stark scoffs lightly, although Peter thinks he’s probably starting to get slightly irritated from the repeated interruptions. “He was ‘dangerous’,” he puts air quotes around the word, “ _ before _ Azkaban. Now he’s probably insane; that place, it - it messes you up. We’ll probably  _ smell _ the crazy on this guy before we see him -”

“Tony,” Professor Rogers interjects sternly. His tone is clipped. “That’s  _ enough _ .”

Professor Stark glares at Professor Rogers, but his gaze flickers almost imperceptibly to Professor Odinson, and something about the murderous expression on his face must send a message because he sighs and surrenders. “Alright,” he mutters. 

Silence settles. Peter glances back and forth between the professors who seem to be having an entire conversation through facial expressions only. It’s probably time for him to leave, he thinks. Well, the time for him to leave was probably  _ before  _ they started talking about crazy jail-breaking wizards, actually. He’s gonna have nightmares for weeks. 

He packs up his things (his ‘things’ being a single roll of parchment that he just stuffs into the bottom of his bag, wincing as he feels the parchment crumple. That stuff is expensive). “Well, uh, thanks for the history lesson, but um. I’m gonna go now,” he says awkwardly, and flees from the room before the situation can get any more uncomfortable. He can hear the angered conversations that erupt the second he closes the classroom door behind him. They carry easily down the hall, the sound echoed and amplified by the stone walls.

  
  
  


The news of both the attack and Professor Barton’s disappearance travels around Hogwarts instantly. At breakfast the next day, the only thing that people seem to be able to talk about is the fact that someone had managed to not only get past the school wards but also kidnap a professor while they were at it. No one knows who the attacker was, apparently, and Peter doesn’t go about spreading his knowledge - Professor Stark had told him not to, and besides, if this Loki guy actually is as dangerous as the professors had made him seem, then Peter doesn’t really want to be the one responsible for generating even more fear in the already terrified student body.

It’s a good thing it’s a Saturday. There’s no way classes would be able to be held, what with how everyone seems to be freaking out about the attack. 

Well, everyone  _ but _ Michelle, apparently.

“I just don’t see why everyone’s so scared,” she says in a low tone, shrugging a shoulder. “If anything, it means that the security on the school is going to be better now.”

Peter stares at her across the library table for a moment, considering. She… does have a point, actually. “True,” he agrees in a whisper. “But, I mean, the school was _attacked_. It’s still gonna be a little scary -”

Michelle snorts, muffling the sound slightly with her hand. “If Professor Rogers managed to kill the Red Skull, I think he can handle one little attacker.”

“Uh,” Peter whispers, after a moment of silence. “Sorry, what?”

Now it’s Michelle’s turn to stare at him. “Professor Rogers? Killed the Red Skull? I know you were raised by Muggles, but how do you not - have you even opened our History of Magic textbook, or -”

“Just - explain, from the beginning. Assume I know nothing.”

“It’s a long story.”

Peter shrugs and pushes his Potions textbook aside. It makes a loud  _ screech _ as he slides it across the surface of the desk, and he makes a face at it. A fifth year Hufflepuff glares at him. “It’s Saturday. I’ve got time.”

Michelle looks at him, assessing for a moment, then she starts to explain. 

“Five years ago,” she begins, still keeping her voice down, “there were these… attacks, all across the Wizarding world. It was scary, mostly because no one could figure out who was doing them, or when they’d hit next. Then after a massive attack at the Ministry, a group of terror-wizards stepped forward. Their leader at the time was this wizard named…” she flaps a hand around, searching for the word, “... something German, I can’t remember. But he called himself the Red Skull. He was probably insane.

“Professor Rogers was Head Auror at the time. He worked with a special Auror squad against the group of wizards, but they still couldn’t stop the attacks. Things were getting crazier, the  _ attacks _ were getting crazier - the deputy Minister was killed in one, right near the end. It all finally ended when Professor Rogers and his second in command managed to corner the Red Skull in a chamber somewhere in the Department of Mysteries.” She falters for a moment. “No one really knows what happened in there, but only Rogers made it out.”

Peter’s mind whirls as he tries to absorb all of that information. “That’s - wow,” he says lamely. “Jeez. How did I - how could I not know about this?”

Michelle shrugs one shoulder. “Well, it’s not like we’re covering it in History,” she says.

“We  _ should _ be,” Peter mutters.

Michelle sighs. “Yeah. I really think that there should be an introductory crash course for all non-Magical raised kids about stuff like this. Especially considering we all have to take Muggle Studies -” she cuts herself off, her expression twisting slightly as if in pain.

Peter can’t help but wince at the sharp reminder of Professor Barton’s disappearance. They have no idea who will be covering their Muggle Studies class now, and Peter’s heard multiple fifth and seventh years grumbling about how the change in professors will make studying for their OWLs and NEWTs even more challenging (which Peter thinks is kind of unfair. It’s not like Professor Barton had planned on disappearing three months into the school year). Even the teachers are frazzled, although they seem to be putting up a good front for the students. But Peter had seen Professor Romanoff in an otherwise empty classroom, deep in conversation with a stern-looking brunette that had been decked in the dark burgundy robes that Peter now knows are trademark of the Aurors. He hadn’t overheard anything, but Professor Romanoff had seemed right near distraught with how she had been pacing back and forth, her hands pulling at her uncharacteristically frizzy hair.

Peter shakes himself out of his thoughts. “Did Professor Rogers retire after that, then?”

Michelle nods. “He stepped down from Head Auror not even a week later,” she says. “Started teaching at Hogwarts that fall.” 

Well. Maybe Peter can forgive the guy for being such a hard-ass, then, given how he apparently single-handedly ended a war. 

(Maybe. His marking is still pretty  _ brutal _ .)

  
  
  


At dinner that evening, Professor Fury stands at the podium after everyone settles down, and Peter immediately knows what he’s going to talk about. He braces himself.

“If I could have your attention.” The headmaster’s magically amplified voice carries easily out over the hall and silences the chattering students. “Thank you. Now, I know there’s been a lot of chatter and rumors being spread right now, and it’s time that that stops. Yesterday evening, Professor Barton was forcibly removed from school grounds by a group of terror-wizards.”

Hushed whispers break out across the four house tables. Peter’s fairly certain that most students had already known about Professor Barton’s disappearance, but the fact that it’s getting confirmed seems to reignite some discussion. Plus, most people probably only knew that Professor Barton had disappeared, not that he had been taken by ‘terror-wizards’.

Peter frowns slightly. Something about that description is bothering him, and has been since the morning. He’s pretty sure that Professor Stark had described the wizards that Loki Odinson worked with as a ‘group of terror-wizards’ back in the charms classroom, but it’s not Professor Fury’s use of the same turn of phrase that’s making him pause .

It’s the fact that Michelle had used it as well today, to describe a completely different set of people.

… Or were they actually different? Peter figures that that ‘terror-wizards’ are probably the Wizarding equivalent of terrorists, and there’s probably more than one group of terror-wizards out there if that’s the case. And yeah, the ‘terror-wizards’ that Loki Odinson had attacked with last night were probably the same ones he had worked with before his imprisonment. That makes sense.

But something else, some twisting of his gut, seems to be telling Peter that Loki’s terror-wizards are the same as the terror-wizards that Professor Rogers had faced before coming to teach at Hogwarts, which just doesn’t make sense. There’s probably more than one group of criminals in the Wizarding world, and there’s no reason  _ why _ the two groups should be the same. All signs should point to them being completely separate.

Except Peter can’t get the way Professor Rogers had reacted yesterday out of his head. It seemed like it had struck a nerve. Like the professor was taking it personal.

“The school,” Fury continues, bringing back Peter’s attention back to the Great Hall, “is working with the Auror Corps to get to the bottom of this, which is why you may have noticed them in the halls today. There will be increased security on the Hogwarts Express for those of you who return home for the holidays, and for those who do not, you will have to comply with stricter restrictions for the duration of the break. With that being said, although Hogwarts remains as safe as it’s always been, I would highly encourage those of you who can return home to do so.” 

He steps down from the podium and mountains of food appear on the table. Conversations erupt around the Hall, but Peter doesn’t pay them much attention. He spends the rest of his meal poking around at his food, listening absent-mindedly as Brad rambles on about his Auror dad, trying to sort out the thoughts in his head. 

  
  
  


The Hogwarts Express is packed when it’s time for everyone to return home for the holidays a week later. Ned tells him that usually more people decide to stay at the school, but Peter supposes that people don’t feel as safe there as they usually do, given the whole “professor getting kidnapped while on school grounds” situation. Plus, Fury’s talk at dinner two nights ago had likely motivated people to leave. 

If the Headmaster himself is hinting at Hogwarts being unsafe, then there’s a good chance it is.

The train ride itself is uneventful. Peter sits in a compartment with a mix of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs from his year and plays a couple rounds of exploding snap against Ned, before Betty Brant asks him about the Charms paper they’ve been assigned for over the holidays. Apparently, Peter’s gained a reputation for being the guy in their year to go to for Charms help. He suspects that he has Ned to thank for that.

By the time he’s finished skimming through Betty’s essay and then Ned’s rough draft, the train is all but pulling into the station. Everyone says their goodbyes - Peter promising to respond to Betty’s owls if she has any more questions over break - and Peter grabs his trunk and all but beelines towards where Ben and May stand together. They pull him into a hug simultaneously, and when May pulls back she says “God, look at you! You’ve grown!” which is probably not true - Peter’s short, he knows this - but the happiness in her voice is infectious. Peter can’t help but smile back.

“C’mon, slugger,” Ben says, taking Peter’s trunk from him. “Let’s get going, this place is packed.”

Peter waves at Ned over his shoulder as he follows his aunt and uncle out of the station. May chatters on about their battle to get a decent parking spot, and though Peter tries to focus on what she’s saying, he can’t help the way his mind strays back towards the platform, back towards Hogwarts, where Michelle is staying over the break.

  
  
  


Peter enjoys being back home in his apartment with his aunt and uncle over the break, he really does. They celebrate the holidays in their usual style of combining Hanukkah and Christmas traditions, and the weeks fly by in a haze of latkes and gingerbread. Ben and May are both overflowing with questions about Hogwarts that Peter is all too eager to answer (leaving out the parts about a professor getting kidnapped, of course; something tells him that May would pull him out of Hogwarts in a heartbeat if she heard about that).

His friends owl him presents on Christmas, which is a pleasant surprise - he’d left his gifts to them at school to give one they returned, which he explained in a quick letter back to them - and once more on New Years Eve, which is apparently a bigger deal in the Wizarding world than in the Muggle one. Ben treats the owls with caution, but the oven mits and snorkeling goggles sadly don’t make a reappearance this time around, much to Peter’s dismay. 

The holidays go by far too quickly, and before Peter knows it, he’s back at Platform 9 ¾ again, boarding the Hogwarts express after saying goodbye to Ben and May once more.

The train ride starts out well enough. It’s great to see Ned again, as well as his other friends, and Ned spends a good twenty minutes regaling their mixed Gryffindor and Hufflepuff compartment with a tale about his family’s Christmas shenanigans - something about a catastrophe involving their handmade ornaments somehow catching on fire while his cousin was hanging it by the window - that has the entire compartment dying of laughter.

It’s right after Betty (finally) stops giggling that the train jerks to a sudden stop and the lights flicker before cutting off.

Peter looks around, suddenly alert. The sound of compartment doors sliding open out in the corridor is clear in the relative quiet that has fallen over the train. He looks around his own compartment. He’s the closest to the door, so he slides it open and pokes his head out, scanning around the hallway of the train.

Movement down the hallway catches his attention out of the corner of his eye, and he turns around to see Liz Allan sticking her head out of the door two compartments down from his own. He tries to catch her attention by waving, but she’s looking the other way. “Liz!” he whispers sharply.

She turns at the sound of her name. “Peter!” she replies. She scans up and down the corridor briefly before creeping closer to him. “Do you know what’s happening?”

“I was gonna ask you the same thing,” he whispers. “Are there any professors on board?”

Liz nods, but her expression is uncertain. Peter can barely make it out in the dim hallway light. “I think so, I mean, probably -”

The entire train seems to  _ shudder _ just then, making Peter stumble. The compartment doors rattle in their frames from the impact all the way down the corridor, and Peter hears a few surprised yelps. He grabs Liz’s shoulder to steady her, and she smiles at him in thanks.

“The hell was that?” Ned asks from inside Peter’s own compartment.

“Did something just hit us?” Liz asks, panic creeping into her voice.

“We need to find a professor -” 

Before Peter finishes his thought, the door at the beginning of the corridor slides open, and Professor Starks bursts out, his robes billowing out behind him in a dramatic fashion. 

“Back into your compartments! Everything is fine, the professors are handling it!” he calls, his voice magically amplified. “Don’t just stand there and block the corridor. C’mon, people, move it!”

“Professor Stark!” Peter calls, trying to catch his attention. “What’s going on?”

Professor Stark turns towards the sound of Peter’s voice. “Mister Parker! Why aren’t you in a compartment? C’mon, in you go, mush -”

“But,” Peter protests feebly.

“Nuh-uh, kid, you’re going back to where it’s safe - Miss Allan, you too, thank you.”

Liz shrugs her shoulder out from under Peter’s grasp and heads back to her compartment. Peter can see a couple other second years peeking their heads out the door, but they all swiftly move back inside as Liz approaches. She gives Peter a small wave which he fumbles to return before she goes back into the compartment, the door sliding shut behind her.

Peter looks back towards Professor Stark, who’s looking at him with a weird-looking grin on his face. Peter scowls, but feels the heat rise to his cheeks nonetheless. “What’s going on?” he asks.

Professor Stark grins. “Young love, apparently -”

“Very professional.”

“Alright,  _ yeesh _ . I’m afraid that you actually  _ do _ need to get back into a compartment, though.”

“Sure, yeah, but what’s going on?” Peter repeats.

“I - listen, kid, I can’t stay and talk right now. Get in a compartment; we’ll talk at the school, capice?”

Peter blinks. “Uh, alright.”

“Great.” Professor Stark’s grin splits into a full smile. “I’ll see you in class.”

Peter steps backwards into his compartment, and blinks once more as Professor Stark slides the door shut. He sighs. He had been looking forward to seeing Professor Stark again for practically his entire winter break, and that hadn’t exactly been the reunion that he had hoped for. 

Well, he supposes, the train is most likely getting attacked, so it’s not like their reunion happened under the best circumstances. Maybe their first tutorial will align more with what he had anticipated -

Wait. Holy shit. The train is most likely getting  _ attacked _ .

Just as that thought enters his mind, the lights in the compartment flicker on for a moment, before they burst out once more. There aren’t any sparks - it’s not like they run on electricity, or anything. Multiple people scream.

“What’s going on?” Betty whispers, her voice frantic.

“We should stay quiet,” Ned whispers, and the compartment falls silent.

After a few moments, the lights come back on just as quickly as they were put out. Peter blinks at the sudden flood of light into his eyes. He starts as he feels the train start to move once more beneath him, and stumbles back to his original seat.

The compartment lets out a collective sigh of relief. “That was freaky,” Peter says weakly.

“Yeah, duh,” Brad snorts.

“Wonder what happened,” a blonde Gryffindor that Peter hasn’t really spoken to - he thinks her name is Felicity? Felicia? It begins with an F for sure - says.

“They’ll tell us at dinner. It was probably nothing,” Ned reasons, before beginning a story about one of his cousin’s wild journeys on the Hogwarts Express.

Peter swallows and turns to look out the window. Somehow, he doesn’t quite think that Ned’s right about either one of those statements. 

  
  
  


Ned isn’t right about either of those statements.

Well, they do receive an explanation at dinner, but Peter can tell that it’s more holes than actual explaining. Headmaster Fury tells them that the train was stalled due to an “unforeseen circumstance” that was summarily dealt with, and that none of the students had any reason to worry. Peter rolls his eyes practically the entire time. He probably could’ve told everyone the same thing.

Headmaster Fury then goes on to say that Professor Barton has returned.

That, Peter could  _ not _ have told anyone.

The school seems to regain some of its vitality over the next few days from the news. Professor Barton isn’t going to be teaching classes for a couple of weeks - Headmaster Fury had mentioned him needing to recover; from what, he didn’t say - but everyone is seemingly becoming more relaxed and sure in the security of Hogwarts. 

Michelle certainly is, at least. When Peter sees her after the break, in the library once more, she’s as nonchalant as she’d been before the break. Peter tries asking her about how her holidays were at Hogwarts, but she just shrugs non-comitally and says that they were alright, which Peter takes as a pretty clear dismissal. 

(They’ve developed a good understanding between them without having to really talk about it: Michelle doesn’t want to hang out around Ned, or most of Peter’s other friends, so they only talk with each other if Peter’s by himself, which mostly occurs at the library. Peter doesn’t understand  _ why _ Michelle shuts down around most of their yearmates, but he’s not going to push. He just hopes that once Michelle gets more comfortable around him that she becomes more willing to spend time with his other friends; he thinks that she’d get along really well with Ned, and it would be nice to have what he’s pretty sure are his two closest friends be at least civil with each other.)

But while the students all relax over time, the professors seem to become  _ more  _ tense than before, something that Peter hadn’t thought possible. Professor Romanoff’s hair loses some of its vibrancy, and Professor Rogers somehow manages to mark them  _ even harder _ in class. No one really knows  _ why _ the professors are still on high alert, because as far as anyone knows there’s no longer any threat to Hogwarts, but nobody really wants to ask, so everyone just kind of… lets it be. Peter doesn’t even broach the subject with Professor Stark; he knows that if the professor wanted to tell him about it, he would, protocol be damned.

Yet as the weeks continue to go by, and slowly but surely, the professors lighten up once more. Quidditch matches are held, assignments are graded, and the school moves on. Professor Barton’s first class back is met with high spirits, and before long, Peter can almost forget that he had ever felt unsafe walking in these halls.

(Almost.)

As January fades into February, everyone seems to have moved on from the attack. So Peter is surprised when, in a tutoring session a couple days before Valentine’s Day, Professor Stark decides to bring it up..

They’re in the middle of talking about how objects can be used to store magical energy when Professor Stark pauses in his explanation of the layers of charms on a Snitch to look at Peter quizzically for a moment and ask, “You remember when Professor Barton was gone?”

Peter blinks at the sudden non sequitur. “Uh, yeah,” he manages. “It was, like, two months ago?”

“Right. Yes. Anyways, so…” the professor sighs. “Loki Odinson was looking for a specific object when he came on the school grounds.”

“So he kidnapped a professor?” Peter asks. He’s still very confused about the sudden change in subject, but he’s learned to ignore it when it comes to Professor Stark and his erratic conversation habits.

Professor Stark shakes his head. “He realized that he couldn’t get into the school without tripping the wards, and, I don’t know, maybe he thought that Barton was the next best thing - he put Barton under one hell of an  _ Imperius _ , I think he thought that maybe Barton could go get it - anyways, that’s not important.” He pauses. “The object he was after, however,  _ is _ important. Very important. It’s capable of storing massive amounts of magical energy, which can be used to do all sorts of terrible and nasty stuff.”

Peter thinks over that for a second, ignoring the stuff he doesn’t quite understand. “Why would that kind of object be kept at Hogwarts? Why not, like, Gringotts, or something?”

“You know, I asked Fury the same thing,” Professor Stark says, pointing a finger at Peter. “Turns out that Rogers has a, hm,  _ history _ with the thing. Knows how to protect it best, and, more importantly, how to stop himself from using it.”

“How to stop himself - what do you mean? Why would he need to stop himself from using it?”

Professor Stark slides off the desk he’d been sitting on and begins to pace back and forth. Peter settles in for a lecture as he explains, “Anything that holds magical energy will, after a period of time, develop a sort of… sentience. Magical objects are made to be used, that’s their whole purpose. So the more magic that an object stores…”

“The more it wants to be used,” Peter finishes. 

“Exactly. This object - it’s called the Tesseract, by the way, with a capital T - lots of people have tried to study it, to figure it out. Not all of them could resist its thrall. People got hurt, so the Ministry elected to store it someplace that people wouldn’t expect it to be, guarded by someone who could protect it.” He shakes his head slightly, pondering. “But... somehow Loki figured out its location. Or maybe he guessed.”

The way he’s talking, the intensity of his words - it sounds as if he’s talking from experience. “Professor,” Peter hesitates, “did - did you ever study it? The Tesseract?”

A blank expression slides over Professor Stark’s face as he stops pacing, clasping his hands together in front of him. He swallows, and shakes his head. “Nah,” he says. “I’m comfortable enough in my truth to know I wouldn’t stand a chance against the thrall of that thing.” He shakes his head once more, as if trying to dispel a thought. ”Alright, I think that’ll do it for today, kid. I got essays to mark.”

Peter collects his stuff. As he walks through the door, Professor Stark calls out, “Oh, and Mister Parker?”

“Yeah?” 

“Try not to worry about Loki, or the Tesseract. We’ve got it handled.”

Peter nods, and says, “You got it, sir,” even as he feels the worry start to creep into his mind. 

  
  
  


Peter manages to shake off most of his feelings of uncertainty and unease by the time he sits down at the Hufflepuff table for breakfast the next morning. Not that he’s stopped thinking about what had gone down at the tutoring session - he’d mulled over it as he lay in his bed the night before, trying to fall asleep - he just figured it wouldn’t be productive for him to worry about it, and he has other things that he  _ should _ be worrying about instead. Besides, Professor Stark had said that the teachers had it handled. Hopefully he hadn’t been overestimating their capabilities. 

Right after he sits at the table, the daily owl delivery service commences. Peter usually doesn’t give it much attention (to a certain extent; it’s difficult to ignore a swarm of birds flapping about as you try to eat breakfast) because he usually doesn’t receive any mail: his correspondence with Ben and May is typically limited to monthly updates, and he knows that Ned will share any important Wizarding news with him. 

Ned subscribes to six separate Wizarding newspapers. Peter understands this. Ned also has a subscription to one specific Muggle tabloid.  _ That _ , Peter doesn’t understand.

“Oh, wow,” Ned murmurs as he skims the front page of the Daily Prophet. “Oh,  _ wow _ . Huh.”

“What?” Peter asks. He’s stopped buttering his toast in favour of watching the face journey occurring beside him.

Ned slides the newspaper over. “Look.”

The headline of the paper reads  _ ‘Scramming Selvig: Former Unspeakable Vanishes _ ’. Peter scans over the article and frowns. He understands maybe one third of the whole thing. Sometimes it feels like he’s been learning new information about the Wizarding World every single day since he got to Hogwarts in September. It sucks. He wishes someone would just write a ‘Wizarding World For Dummies’ book and ease his eternal suffering. 

Sighing, Peter turns to Ned, and asks, “Uh, what’s an Unspeakable?”

Ned blinks at him for a split second, before that familiar look of realization appears on his face. He doesn’t mention anything about Peter’s upbringing, though, which is nice, Peter supposes. “Unspeakables work in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic,” Ned explains. “Usually their, like,  _ actual _ identity isn’t public knowledge because the stuff they do is like, top secret research -”

“Then why do people know about this Selvig guy?”

“Selvig’s status as un Unspeakable was used in Loki Odinson’s trial,” Betty pipes in from across the table. “It was one of the main things that actually put him in Azkaban in the first place” 

“That’s Professor Odinson’s brother, yeah? The one he doesn’t talk about,” Ned asks. 

Betty gives him a flat look. “I dunno, would you be keen to talk about your brother who died trying to escape from Azkaban?”

Ned winces.

Betty rolls her eyes. “Anyways,” she continues, shifting her attention towards Peter, “Selvig was an expert witness in the trial - they used his research to prove something, I can’t remember exactly what - but he had to stop being an Unspeakable afterwards because of it.” She pauses. “It sucks that he’s missing. He’s supposed to be, like, super smart.”

“Wonder if this has anything to do with Professor Barton’s disappearance,” Ned says offhandedly. 

Peter frowns, and looks down, pretending to skim through the article once more. He knows that he can’t tell them that Loki Odinson was responsible for Professor Barton’s disappearance because he’s not really supposed to know that himself. Hell, he’s not really supposed to know that Loki is even alive and out of Azkaban in the first place: Professor Stark had told him to stay quiet about the whole thing, because the Aurors didn’t want a widespread panic on their hands. Which Peter doesn’t quite get, but he also doesn’t want to get in trouble with the Wizard Cops, so he hasn’t told anyone about any of it. Even though he personally thinks that people should know that a crazy wizard has escaped from jail, but he’s eleven, and also raised by Muggles, so. What does he know.

“- Peter?”

He looks up, blinking away his thoughts. Betty and Ned are both staring at him, and by the looks of it they’ve been doing so for a while. “Uh,” he says, startled, “yeah?”

“I was just saying that you should ask Professor Stark about it,” Ned says slowly. 

“Uh,” Peter repeats. “Sure, but, um. Why?”

“Professor Stark used to work with Selvig,” Betty explains.

“Professor Stark was an Unspeakable?” 

“No,” Betty shakes her head, “but his father was. Professor Stark carried on his research outside of the Department of Mysteries after he died, and it overlapped with Selvig’s research enough so that he was name-dropped in Selvig’s testimony.”

Huh. Peter can’t help but be surprised that Professor Stark hadn’t mentioned any of that to Peter before, not even a passing ‘ _ hey, you know that guy that escaped Wizard Alcatraz to kidnap a Hogwarts professor? Yeah, so my research actually helped put him into Wizard Alcatraz in the first place, and he’s probably the type to hold a grudge, so. I might be in danger _ .’ But to be fair, it  _ does _ help to explain how Professor Stark had reacted when he’d found out that Loki Odinson was still alive.

Peter shrugs, and says, “I’ll ask him tonight.”

  
  
  


“Hey, Parker!”

It takes Peter a second to register that someone’s calling him as he makes his way to Professor Stark’s classroom later that evening. He’s not used to being referred to by last name; everyone at Hogwarts seems to use last names for everyone but their friends, but when your last name is also a first name it can get pretty confusing at times.

He turns around to see who’s calling him, and can’t help but raise his eyebrows once he does. It’s that Eugene Thompson kid who he’d punched at the first Flying lesson way back in September, the one that Michelle and Ned both refer to as ‘Flash’ for no specific reason, at least not one that Peter’s been able to discern.

He’s managed to steer fairly clear of Flash ever since he decked him on the Quidditch Pitch. Initially it was for his own safety: Ned had warned him that Flash wouldn’t be above seeking retribution in a variety of cruel and creative ways, and Peter would rather keep his head out of the Hogwarts toilets, thanks. Eventually, though, as the months wore on and Peter saw a little more of Flash in the classroom, he’d realized that Flash was just a bully, and given Peter’s tendency to pick fights with bullies, he’d figured that it would probably be for the best if he gave Flash a wide berth and simply did not interact with him in any way, lest he find another reason to punch him across the face.

His knuckles twinge as if to remind him as he sighs. “Yeah?”

“Where are you going?”

Peter opens his mouth to reply, then closes it. “Sorry, what?”

Flash takes a step towards him. “I said, where are you going?”

“Why do you care?”

Another step. “Are you going to see Professor Stark?”

“Again, why do you -”

“I know he’s helping you cheat in Charms.”

Peter reels backwards, away from Flash’s advance. “Um, no -”

“Oh yeah?” Flash challenges, stopping a foot away from Peter. “Then why are you always at his office?”

“No, no, hang on a minute,” Peter says, raising his hands in a _slow down_ gesture. “You think Professor Stark is helping me cheat _in_ _his own class_? Do you realize how crazy you sound?”

“Then how else is a Muggleborn at the top of the class?”

Peter jerks his head as if struck. “Are you serious?” he asks Flash. “You really think that a Muggleborn can’t be good at charms?”

“Well, no, not better than me,  _ not _ better than Udaku -”

“I’m in the library every single day, you can ask Michelle -”

Flash scoffs, “Yeah, and why the fuck would I care what Jones says -”

“Mister Thompson!” a voice calls out. 

Peter and Flash both turn right as Professor Stark rounds the corner. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter sees Flash’s expression twist as if he’d just bitten into something exceptionally sour. Peter fights to keep a grin off his face. 

“Mister Parker,” Professor Stark greets, nodding at Peter as he approaches. He turns to face Flash, and continues, “Why are you yelling outside of my classroom?”

“Uh, I was - um, I just - I was asking Parker a question. Sir.” Flash looks  _ terrified _ . Peter has never been happier. 

Professor Stark nods slowly, pursing his lips. “Right, well,” he says after a few moments of watching Flash squirm. “In the future, if you could refrain from both the yelling and the swearing, it would be much appreciated.”

Flash gulps. “Uh, yes sir.” He stays there for a few moments, staring at Professor Stark, before he realizes that he’s been dismissed. Peter pushes down the grin that’s attempting to break out across his face, which gets harder as Professor Stark levels him with a flat look.

Professor Stark waits until Flash has disappeared around the corner before opening the door to his classroom and gesturing Peter in with a nod of his head. “You’re a bit early, but we might as well get started -”

“Actually, Professor, I wanted to ask you something,” Peter interrupts.

“Ask away.”

Peter opens his mouth to ask about the missing Unspeakable, about what he’d talked about at breakfast, but Flash’s words are at the forefront of his mind now so what comes out instead is, “Why are you helping me?”

Professor Stark pauses, and frowns. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“No one else has this sort of tutoring, and I - it’s not - I’m good at Charms, or at least I think I am, so it’s not like I  _ need _ the extra help, and Flash said that you’re helping me cheat which I  _ know _ you’re not but I just - I don’t understand. Is all.” As Peter talks, Professor Stark raises both his eyebrows, which, yeah, Peter hadn’t exactly meant to ramble on about all of that, but. He’s here now. “Not that I don’t appreciate it,” he tacks on, “because I do, but I just - yeah.”

“You  _ are _ good at Charms,” Professor Stark agrees easily after a moment. He moves to stand behind his desk. “That’s why I’m helping you: you have a lot of potential, and I think it’d be a shame if it went to waste. If you want to discontinue these sessions, then -”

“No,” Peter shakes his head. “No, definitely not -”

“Good, then, if that’s out of the way, we can get to the theory behind size-changing charms -”

“Well,” Peter interrupts once more with a wince, “I did want to ask you about one more thing.”

“Alright, shoot.”

Peter falters slightly - it’s an awkward thing to ask about - but he swallows, and says, “Uh, it’s about the Unspeakable who went missing. Selvig.”

“Ah.” Professor Stark’s neutral expression doesn’t shift, but it tightens slightly, as if forced. “Right.”

“Do - do you think his dissapearance is connected with Professor Barton’s?”

The classroom is silent for a few seconds, before Professor Stark breaks the quiet with a sharp sigh. “Yes, I do,” he says softly.

Peter feels his heartbeat quicken with sudden nervousness as he asks, “Why?”

“Because Loki Odinson wants the Tesseract,” Professor Stark says with uncharacteristic gravity, “and Selvig is the single person outside this school who can help him get it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter-specific warnings: discussions/references towards canon mcu character deaths
> 
> so i meant to finish this in june. lol. i also meant to have this be under 5k words, so... hopefully the longer chapter makes up for the delay! (i'm trying to aim for shorter and more frequent updates in the future, but if u have any preferences either way let me know in a comment!)
> 
> also, since this work makes use of a 'verse created by jk r*wling, i feel as though i should state that i in no way agree with r*wling's vile comments about trans women, and i urge u all to support trans women in any way that u can, *especially* Black trans women, *especially* now!!!
> 
> i'm posting this before i head off to work, so if there's any glaring errors lmk and i'll fix them lol. hope u enjoyed this chapter, i'll see y'all in the next one! comments and kudos are always appreciated! wear a mask!


	3. rupture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter starts a rock collection. Loki shows up fashionably late. The school year comes to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see chapter end-notes for chapter-specific warnings

**03\. Rupture:  
**An instance of breaking or bursting suddenly and completely**  
**

The day of Loki’s attack starts out just like any other day at Hogwarts. Peter rolls out of bed with just enough time to shrug on his uniform and head down to breakfast, which he eats at the Hufflepuff table while Betty reads through his Transfiguration essay. He goes to class - Double Potions, where he’s started sitting beside Michelle recently, which has been nice - and then to lunch, reluctantly sitting with Brad when Ned is nowhere to be seen. 

Afternoon classes drag on, as they are known to do. Nothing unusual about that.

It isn’t until he’s in the hallway, on his way to the library with the intent of finishing his Charms paper, that he notices anything… strange. 

Peter rounds a corner and almost walks directly into Professor Stark.

“Woah,” Professor Stark says.

“Sorry, professor -” Peter starts.

“Where are you going?” Professor Stark interrupts. (This isn’t the unusual thing. Professor Stark interrupts a _lot_.)

Peter squints at him. “The library?” He phrases it as a question.

“Is it important?”

“It’s for your class.”

“So no, then.”

Peter squints harder. “Uh, what -”

“Have you seen Banner anywhere?”

“Yeah, I had Double Potions before lunch -”

“But not since then?”

“No, I was in _class_ \- professor, what’s going on?”

Professor Stark sighs, frustrated. “Professor Banner has vanished. Disappeared. Poof, _gone_.”

For the safest place in all of Europe, Hogwarts sure has some seriously lax security regarding their teaching staff, Peter thinks. He glances around the hallway, checking that they’re alone, and asks in a whisper, “Do you think it’s Loki?”

“Yeah, probably,” Professor Stark admits after a moment. He runs a hand through his hair, disrupting the gel that had been holding it in place. “Listen, kid, don’t go to the library. Go to your dorm. If shit hits the fan, I don’t want you anywhere near it.”

Peter swallows. “Do you think he’s going to come here? To Hogwarts?”

“Stay in your dorm,” Professor Stark repeats instead of answering. He gives Peter an awkward pat on the shoulder, before turning around the corner and heading in the direction that Peter had come from. 

Peter looks over his shoulder at the professor’s retreating figure as he weighs his options. He could do as Professor Stark had asked and go hide up in his dorm, but Peter’s never been great at following instructions. Besides, if he goes to his dorm now, who’s gonna tell Ned and Michelle and everyone else to be careful? The professors probably won’t - they haven’t even shared that Loki Odinson is alive, let alone actively targeting Hogwarts. Peter’s probably the only student in the entire school that has any inkling of what’s going on.

And besides, hiding in his bed doesn’t exactly scream _Gryffindor_ , Peter reasons. He’s just displaying house pride.

With that decided, he readjusts the strap on his book bag, pushes his glasses up his nose, and resolves to find either Ned or Michelle.

  
  
  


Peter doesn’t find Ned or Michelle. He finds Wanda Maximoff instead. 

Or, rather, she finds him.

“Peter!” she calls the second Peter exits the Gryffindor Common Room after dropping off his bag.

Peter frowns internally as she approaches, dragging a boy with wavy silver-blond hair behind her. Him and Wanda aren’t _not_ friends, per se; next to Liz, she’s probably one of the only non-First Years that Peter’s even spoken to. But she’s never, like, actively sought him out before, and she’s certainly never approached him with quite as much determination as she’s currently showing.

“Uh, hi, Wanda?” he says, but through his confusion it comes out as more of a question.

“Peter,” she greets, “have you seen Stark?”

Why does everyone think that Peter keeps tabs on all the professors’ locations? He nods, still confused. “Yeah,” he says slowly, letting the word drag out, “I just spoke with him on the way to the library. I was on the way to the library, not him. But I’m not now. Obviously. Why?” 

Wanda and the blond boy exchange a worried glance. “We - I have something I need to tell him,” she explains. “Where did he go?”

“He, uh, went looking for something, I dunno - are you okay?” 

All the colour drains from Wanda’s already pale face as Peter speaks. “It’s already happening,” she says with horror to the boy beside her. “Pietro, we’re too late, it’s already started!”

“We might still have time, Wanda, you know how unreliable they are - what was it that Stark was searching for?” the boy - Pietro - asks the last bit to Peter. He has the same accent as Wanda, ‘they’ sounding more like _‘zhey_ ’, but his is a bit thicker. 

Peter hesitates, debating how much to tell them. Wanda seems petrified, like her worst nightmare is about to come true. “He was looking for Professor Banner. I’m not sure why. What’s going on?” 

“Do you know what the Tesseract is?” Wanda asks.

Panic flares in the back of Peter’s mind, accompanied by a heavy feeling of dread. He nods, not even sparing a moment to ponder how Wanda knows about the Tesseract.

“It’s in danger. And so is Professor Stark.”

The chatter and ambient noise of the other students in the hallway seems to fall away as Peter’s heart pounds in his chest. “What do you mean?” he asks, his voice as shaky as he feels.

Before either Wanda or Pietro can respond, there’s a loud _bang_ , and the floor beneath Peter’s feet seems to ripple like a wave on the ocean, knocking him into the stone wall. Multiple screams and swears echo down the hallway as everyone regains their footing, looking around with worry. Peter is immediately reminded of the attack on the Hogwarts Express just three months ago, and he puts his hand to his chest as he forces himself to breathe like May had taught him, fighting against the asthma attack that's threatening to creep into his throat.

“The wards,” Peter hears Wanda murmur from where she crashed into the wall beside him. “They’re attacking the wards.”

“We need to find Stark,” Pietro says, already having pushed off the wall. He turns to Peter. “Coming?” he asks.

Peter hesitates for just a moment before he nods his head, his breathing pretty much back to normal.

The three of them push through the crowd of anxious students in what Peter recognizes as the direction to the Great Hall. Pietro keeps up a quick pace, and Peter struggles to keep up without triggering an asthma attack. _Of all the times to leave your inhaler in your room_ , he thinks to himself in between laboured breaths.

They don’t find Professor Stark in the Great Hall, nor in any of the nearby corridors or classrooms. Eventually, Wanda grabs a hold of Pietro’s wrist and says, “We need to split up.”

Pietro and Peter both nod. Pietro says, “I’ll start in the dungeons and work up.”

“I can check the grounds,” Peter says, but it comes out as more of a gasp.

Wanda faces him, her eyes wide with concern. “Are you okay?” she asks.

Peter flaps his hand around as he leans into the nearest wall. “Asthma,” he wheezes.

“Are you sure you’re good to look for Stark?”

“Just give me a minute,” Peter says, although it sounds more like _jusgimmemin_. Wanda seems to understand him anyways, if the uncertain look on her face is an indication. “I’ll be fine.” 

He hopes. He hasn’t had an attack since he’s been at Hogwarts, but there had been a couple of close calls from particularly dusty library books or certain potions ingredients. He usually brings his inhaler with him to the dungeons or to the library, but he hadn’t planned on taking out any books this afternoon so he had reasoned that he would be fine. Good ol’ Parker Luck, as Ben would say. 

“Okay,” Wanda agrees, although still looks troubled by the idea. “I’ll check the towers, starting with Ravenclaw, then.”

Wanda and Pietro make to leave, but Peter says, still a little breathless, “Wait, what am I supposed to tell Professor Stark if I find him?”

“Tell him…” Wanda trails off for a moment. “Tell him that someone is trying to get the Tesseract, and if they get it before Professor Stark does, he’ll die. He’ll - turn into dust, I don’t know how. That’s all I Saw.”

Peter blanches at that - _turn into_ dust _? Pardon?_ \- but he nods through his confusion and worry. “I’ll try to pass it on,” he says.

Wanda looks at him with an unreadable expression, before she nods to herself and grabs Pietro’s arm. The two of them move swiftly back into the hallway that connects to the Great Hall, rounding a corner and leaving Peter alone in the corridor. 

Peter slides down the wall until he’s in a sitting position, knees bent inwards to his chest. He takes off his glasses and tries to use his shirt to clean their lenses. He’s stalling, trying to catch his breath, and trying to process _what on earth_ is going on. Wanda _Saw_ something - Peter could hear her capitalization of the word - but what does that even mean? He only has a passing knowledge of Divination because it’s not a First Year course, but he’s fairly sure that it’s, like, reading tea leaves and horoscopes, not having visions of the future.

And that’s not even touching the whole _Professor-Stark-turning-into-dust_ situation. 

Peter knows he has to stand up and get going, but his limbs don’t seem to be cooperating with his brain. Absently, he realizes that his hands are shaking as he rubs the fabric of his shirt in circles on his glasses lenses. He can’t just sit here, he knows that, he knows he has to find Professor Stark and tell him to guard the Tesseract or else he’s going to _literally die_ and it would be Peter’s fault because he couldn’t get off the ground -

Another _bang_ echoes around him, jolting his brain back into his body and cutting off his racing thoughts. It sounds incredibly close, like he could round the corner and see whatever it was that was causing Hogwarts to shake on its foundations. 

In the eerie silence that follows, Peter hears footsteps sounding on the stone floor of the hallway. They’re slowly getting louder, as if someone was approaching him. _Probably a student_ , he thinks. He hopes. He swallows down the last bit of his panic and shoves his glasses back on his nose at the same moment that the footsteps stop.

“Well, what do we have here?”

Peter scrambles up off the floor, not taking his eyes off the unfamiliar man standing down the corridor, just over ten meters away. “Who are you?” he calls out. He fights to keep his voice level, so as not to betray his previous breathlessness or his current anxiousness to the stranger.

The man shakes his head slightly. A strand of stringy black hair falls across his face as he does so, but he makes no move to push it away. “I believe I asked first,” he says with a mocking lilt.

“Just - stay away. I can scream really loudly,” Peter says. He wraps his fingers around his wand where it’s in his pocket, but he knows he can’t do much. An adult wizard probably won’t be threatened by a _Wingardium Leviosa_ , no matter how good his technique. 

“Ah,” the man says, “it’s such a shame, then, that your professors are otherwise… occupied.”

Peter takes a step back. “Who are you,” he demands once more.

The man steps forward, close enough for Peter to take in the sickly pallor of his skin and the deep purple circles underneath his shockingly pale blue eyes. “I am Loki,” the man says. His smooth voice is a jarring contrast to his haggard appearance. “And I am burdened with glorious purpose.”

Then he raises his wand, and Peter doesn’t even have time to show Loki how loudly he can scream before everything turns black.

  
  
  


Peter wakes up to the sound of spells being fired in the distance.

He sits up, blinking. He’s not in the hallway where Loki had confronted him - he’s not even in the castle at all. When he pats the ground around himself to try and find his glasses, he feels grass underneath his hand. It’s dark, and Peter can barely see, but he’s pretty sure he can make out the outline of trees extending out before him into the sky.

Great. He’s probably somewhere in the depths of the Forbidden Forest. Just - excellent.

He pauses in his search for his glasses and checks his pocket for his wand. _Thank God_ , he thinks as he pulls it out. “ _Lumos_ ,” he mutters, and a brilliant sphere of white light blooms into existence on its end. 

Yep, he’s in the Forbidden Forest, that’s for certain. And if he squints, he can make out a distinctly plastic object in the grass a few meters to his right - _his glasses!_ \- and he scrambles over to pick it up. 

With his glasses on, he feels slightly calmer. Well, until he remembers the events leading up to him getting knocked out.

Icy fear creeps into his chest. How long had he been passed out for? He has no way of knowing if Wanda or Pietro found Professor Stark, no way of knowing if Professor Stark got to the Tesseract in time. 

No way of knowing if Professor Stark is dead or not.

Peter grits his teeth in frustration. He wants to cry, he feels so useless, so _stupid_. He had literally one job, to find Professor Stark, and what did he do instead? He had an asthma attack and then got knocked out by the _single_ person he was supposed to be helping fight against. Some help you are, Parker. Can’t even be trusted to act like a bloody owl and deliver a message within the same freaking castle. _Useless_.

A particularly loud spell catches his attention, and Peter turns around to face where he thinks it’s coming from. It’s probably the castle, he reasons. It’s as good of a guess as any, and it’s not like he has much else to go off of at this point. 

He heads in that direction, only stumbling slightly at first. Whatever spell Loki had used to knock him out doesn’t seem to be leaving any serious lasting effects. He’s fairly certain that the headache beginning to bloom behind his eyes is more from stress than anything else.

Loki. Peter’s not sure how to feel about their, ah, _encounter_. Loki hadn’t seemed entirely _sane_ , sure, but he also hadn’t been noticeably deranged. Not like how Peter had anticipated him to be after having spent years in Azkaban. Of course, their interaction had been rather brief, and Peter’s recollection of it seems to be clouded with the general haze of panic that had been coursing through his body at the time. But still, apart from the shadows under his eyes, Loki had honestly seemed pretty fine, in Peter’s opinion. Hellbent on finding the Tesseract, sure, but _fine_.

Peter reaches the edge of the forest with relative ease, following the sound of spellfire as it increases in volume. He swiftly crosses the lawn that leads up to the castle, taking in the expanse of stone as he does. It’s still standing, and lights are shining from the windows, so that must account for _something_ , he supposes. 

The sounds of spells seem to all be coming from one point of the castle, and as Peter rounds the outside, he can see an array of flashing colours in the same spot. It’s the Astronomy Tower - a place that Peter has never been, but Michelle apparently has. Through the bright and distracting colours, Peter can just barely make out another light, this one steady and constant. If it wasn’t nighttime, Peter thinks he probably wouldn’t be able to see the blue-white glow emanating from a point inside the tower, it’s so faint.

But it is nighttime, so Peter can see it, and hey, that’s probably the Tesseract, isn’t it. 

He casts a glance in the direction of the door to the castle. Realistically, he knows he should go inside. He’s not safe out here, plus it’s starting to get kind of cold, and he should probably see Healer Cho just to make sure that Loki’s spell doesn’t have any nasty side effects on it.

There’s a lull in the sound of spellcasting, and Peter glances up, back at the Astronomy Tower. He’s just in time to hear a voice that sounds like Professor Stark yell, “ _You son of a bitch_!” 

There isn’t enough time for Peter to process that before there’s a strangled shout, and then a loud grunt, and then Peter watches as a cube of glowing blue light that he assumes to be the Tesseract tumbles out of the Astronomy Tower window and falls through the air.

The moment stills, giving Peter just enough time to think, _Oh, shit_ , as his eyes follow the rapidly falling shape as it plummets towards the ground.

(Looking back, Peter will remember this moment, and realize that the sentiment of ‘Oh, shit,’ while entirely accurate, is wholly underwhelming for the amount of trouble and grief that this singular instant is responsible for, in the grand scheme of things.)

The Tesseract slams into the ground a couple meters away from Peter.

And it - _shatters_.

A burst of blue-white light radiates outwards from the Tesseract, followed by a gust of energy that knocks Peter a step back and leaves the air smelling like ozone. He blinks rapidly, chasing away the black spots that cloud his vision, before staring at the sight in front of him, mouth agape. 

The Tesseract - well, it’s not really _‘the’_ Tesseract anymore, on account of it now being in approximately a billion pieces. Tiny glass-like shards are scattered on the ground in a circle that radiates outwards from where the Tesseract had landed. Sitting right on that point of impact is an inch long gemstone that pulses with the same cloudy blue-white light that had filled the Tesseract.

Peter looks at it for what feels like a long time, barely listening as the sounds of spellfire cease above him, and weighs his options.

The shards crunch under his shoes as he picks up the stone. It feels improbably light in his palm, like it carries no weight at all, and yet his hand still shakes with effort as he lifts it up to his eyeline. He squints against the light emanating from the stone and lets himself _look_ into its depths, into the clouds that swirl across its expanse.

As he stares into the shimmering blue of the stone, something _shifts_ in his chest, and he blinks. He pulls the stone away from his face - when did he even bring it so close to his eyes? - and frowns. It’s just a shiny rock.

He looks at it for one more moment, and then slips it into his pocket, next to his wand, and heads towards the entrance to the castle.

  
  
  


Peter makes it all of ten meters before someone nearly bowls him over.

He jerks out of their way, raising his hands. His head spins from the abrupt motion. “Woah, sorry,” he says, wincing at how dazed he sounds. His voice sounds like it’s coming from far away, from outside of his body. Odd.

The figure starts, and turns to face him. Peter squints - his eyesight seems a little blurry, like his glasses prescription had suddenly changed. That’s certainly not ideal. Hopefully it’s not from his staring contest with the Tesseract.

“Peter?” 

“Oh, hey, Professor Stark,” Peter says. He blinks. _Wait_. “Professor Stark!” he exclaims.

“Peter, what are you doing out of the castle? Didn’t I tell you to go to your dorm? Why - It’s not safe right now -”

“Professor Stark,” Peter repeats for the third time. “I gotta tell you something.”

He can’t tell in the dim light, but he’s pretty sure that Professor Stark frowns at him. “Okay,” the professor says slowly. “What do you have to tell me?”

“You gotta find the Tesseract.” 

Professor Stark pulls his head back. “That - that’s what I’m doing, I saw it fall - Peter, are you alright?”

“I have it,” Peter says.

“You - what?”

“I have it,” Peter repeats. “It’s in my pocket - or, well - the Tesseract broke? I have what was inside of the cube thing. Did you know it was just a container for a rock? Because that’s kind of anticlimactic -”

“Hold on, hold on.” Professor Stark raises his hands in the universal gesture for _stop_ . “Rewind, like, five steps for me. You have the Tesseract? In your _pocket_?”

“The stone part, yeah.”

Professor Stark blinks at him. “And you’re fine?”

Peter nods slowly. Honestly, he’s not sure why Professor Stark is so concerned. He feels - great, actually. Apart from his vision being slightly blurry. But that’s probably from Loki’s spell, he’s pretty sure.

“No sudden urges to create a black hole under Hogwarts and kill us all?”

“Nope,” Peter says, popping the P. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears, and it’s making him feel distinctly nauseous. He frowns, and squints harder at the professor. Is his vision getting blurrier? 

“I’m sorry, is your _what_ getting _what_?”

Oh, did he say that out loud? 

“Kid, are you okay - woah, let’s try and stand up - Pete? C’mon, stay with me here - _Peter_?”

Peter’s vision clouds over completely until all he can see is the pulsing blue-white light of the Tesseract. _That’s not good_ , he thinks, and then he doesn’t think anything at all as he passes out for the second time that day.

  
  
  


This time, Peter wakes to utter silence. It’s so quiet that he’s not even sure if he’s awake until he opens his eyes.

He’s greeted with the sight of a white curtain hanging in front of him. Cool. He looks down at himself. He’s covered in what looks like white sheets. He turns to the side, and sees the blurry outline of his glasses, which he grabs with hands that tremble a worrying amount. 

Glasses on, he shifts into a sitting position. Or, rather, he tries to. He gets tangled in the sheets somehow, so he only ends up making a weird aborted motion that ends with a pained grunt as he falls the two inches back down onto the mattress. He lays there for a moment, winded and only slightly embarrassed. What had happened to make him so tired and weak? Last he remembers, he was talking to Professor Stark outside of the castle. He assumes he’s in the Hospital Wing now, but he has absolutely no idea how he got there, or how long ago his conversation with Professor Stark had been.

Any further thoughts are interrupted by the curtain in front of him being moved with a loud _screech_ of metal on metal. Healer Cho winces as she comes into view, but her appearance otherwise is entirely professional, white robes crisp and black hair in a neat bun. “Sorry about that,” she says. She gives Peter a kind smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Er,” Peter replies eloquently. “Tired?”

“That’s not unexpected.”

“What - what happened?”

Healer Cho steps all the way through the curtain and draws it shut quietly behind her. She stands at the foot of the bed as she says, “Professor Stark brought you in about a day and a half ago. You were showing pretty much all the signs of magical exhaustion, so I gave you a sleeping draught and let you rest. You’ll probably feel tired for another hour or so, and you should hold off on any magic for the rest of the day, but by tomorrow you’ll hopefully be back to normal.”

Magical exhaustion? Peter’s pretty sure that he hadn’t cast a single spell that entire afternoon - two days ago, _jeez_. But he nods anyways. Maybe normal exhaustion and magical exhaustion look the same, he’s not going to question Healer Cho. “Oh.”

Healer Cho gives another small smile. “I know Professor Stark wants to see you, if you’re not too tired?” she asks gently.

Peter nods instantly. “Yeah - I mean, no, I’m not too tired. I can see him.”

“Great! I’ll go let him know.” Healer Cho nods her head slightly as she moves back out the curtain.

Peter barely gets a moment by himself before the curtain is screeching open once more. “Peter!” Professor Stark exclaims. “How’re you feeling?”

“Tired,” Peter repeats. “And - confused? Healer Cho said that I was magically exhausted, but I don’t think I even cast anything after class that day. Why would I be exhausted from that?”

Professor Stark sighs as he pulls up a chair that Peter hadn’t even noticed. “I’m not sure,” the professor admits, sitting down. “But I can guess. When you picked up the Tesseract - which was an unbelievably foolish move, by the way, but we don't need to discuss that yet - your magic most likely fought against its thrall. Not on purpose,” he says, seeing Peter about to interrupt, “but subconsciously.” He hesitates, looking at Peter with uncharacteristic solemnity. “You are incredibly lucky that you weren’t further hurt.”

Doesn’t he know it. Peter swallows. “That's what I thought when I woke up after Loki attacked me,” he mutters.

Professor Stark jerks up, eyes wide. “I’m sorry, _what_?”

Peter gets the feeling that he probably should have waited until he was out of the Hospital Wing to mention that particular tidbit. “Uh,” he says. “Loki knocked me out somehow? And brought me out of the castle? That’s why I was outside,” he rushes to explain, seeing the expression on Professor Stark’s face. “I didn’t not listen to you - well, I kinda did after I ran into Wanda, but then I had to _find_ you to warn you -”

“Peter,” Professor Stark cuts him off sharply. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened after you and I had parted ways?”

Peter swallows again. “I went through the castle towards my dorm,” he begins warily. “But I ran into Wanda - Maximoff, she’s a third year? - and a guy named Pietro, I think he’s her brother, and Wanda asked me where you were, and I told her that I had just ran into you. And then she got all worried, saying that ‘It’ had already started? And that we needed to find you, and warn you.”

“Warn me of what.”

“Wanda said that you needed to get to the Tesseract before the person who was looking for it did.” Peter hesitates before saying the next bit. “She said that if you didn’t… you would die. You would turn to dust.”

“I see,” Professor Stark says after a moment. He doesn’t seem too rattled by the information, Peter notes with relief. “And then Loki attacked you?”

“Right, um. We - me, Wanda, and Pietro - decided to split up to find you faster, but I took just a moment to catch my breath because I didn’t want to have an asthma attack when my inhaler was in my dorm - and that’s when Loki found me.” Peter takes a steadying breath, before continuing, “He threatened me vaguely and then knocked me out. And then I woke up near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and I heard spells so I followed the sound back to the castle, and then I saw the Tesseract fall out of the Astronomy Tower, and then it shattered, and so I picked up the stone and then I ran into you.” 

“I see,” Professor Stark repeats. He sighs, and stands up. “Loki has been arrested. He’s having a trial, because after he was knocked in the head by Romanoff he actually surrendered. He is claiming to not have been under his own control, but not that he was under the _Imperius_ \- frankly, I’m a little confused by the whole situation, but Thor is seeing to it that he receives impartial treatment, so we’ll see how it goes. The Tesseract has been placed back in the Department of Mysteries, where it really should have been all along. I,” he places a hand on his chest, “am going to have a discussion with the Maximoff twins. _You_ are gonna stay here, and stay out of trouble for the rest of the year. Capice?”

Peter nods, fighting to keep a grin off his face. Professor Stark is okay, _everyone’s_ okay. Loki didn’t get the Tesseract. Crisis averted. 

“Good,” Professor Stark says, with an answering smile on his face. “Now, there were two first years that I assume to be friends of yours that were waiting to see you, if you want me to send them in?”

That must be Ned and Michelle. God, he hopes that they hadn't worried about him. “Yeah,” Peter says, “yeah, send them in.”

Professor Stark nods as he slides open the curtain. Before he leaves, he turns back to Peter, and says, “You did good, Peter. Not letting the Tesseract take ahold of you - it means you have heart. Most people wouldn't be able to fight it off.”

Peter takes a moment to bask in the praise after the professor leaves. It’s not long, however, before his peace is broken by the curtain being slid open with that same _screech_ for the third time. 

He can’t find it in him to wince, though, because the sight of Ned and Michelle, his two closest friends, standing together comfortably at the foot of his bed only makes him feel even warmer inside. “Hey guys,” he says.

Ned doesn’t even hesitate to wrap him in a crushing hug. “We thought you were dead!” he exclaims as he pulls back.

Michelle shakes her head slightly from behind him, and mouths, _we didn’t really_. Peter fights back a snicker. 

“Are you okay?” Ned continues, oblivious to the exchange occurring over his shoulder. “Healer Cho said it was just magical exhaustion, but I had a cousin who got so magically exhausted once that he couldn’t use any magic for over a year, and then you wouldn’t be able to do school -”

“Ned, I’m okay,” Peter reassures. “I should be fine by tomorrow.”

“Oh. That’s good then.” Ned glances at Michelle briefly. “We were just worried.”

Michelle snorts, and steps forward so that she’s standing beside Ned. “No, _Ned_ was just worried. I knew you’d be fine.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Peter says. He glances between the two of them. He’s unsure if he should say anything about their newfound friendship in fear that it’ll set _something_ off, but hey, he reasons, he’s in a hospital bed. They can cut him some slack. “So, uh,” he says, “it seems that thinking I was dead has really brought you guys together?”

Michelle barks out a laugh. “Yeah, it certainly gave us something in common. And…” she hesitates slightly, but steadies herself, “I figured if that if we were both going to worry over you, we might as well do it together. ‘A worry shared is a worry halved,’ and all that.”

“I don’t plan on making this a habit,” Peter says dryly.

“That’s how it starts,” Ned mutters. 

“ _Anyways_ ,” Peter ignores him, “are you guys okay after - everything?”

Michelle stares at him blankly. “You’re the one in a hospital bed, and you’re asking if _we’re_ okay?”

“Yeah,” Ned adds, “and what even happened with you? One minute you were in class, the next I hear that you’re in the Hospital Wing!”

Peter sighs, and gives them the quick version of what he had told Professor Stark. He brushes over the details about what Wanda had Seen, and also the part about him actually _picking up_ the Tesseract. If either Ned or Michelle notice his omissions, they don’t comment on it. Instead, they listen to him with wide eyes, and gasp at all the appropriate moments. It makes Peter feel like he had actually done something _cool_ that evening, instead of having an asthma attack and getting knocked out twice. It makes him feel like he had actually helped. 

_You did good, Peter_ , Professor Stark had told him. Maybe Peter could actually believe that. 

  
  
  


Peter spends the rest of the day in the Hospital Wing sleeping. He gets released the next day, and many of his yearmates ask him what had happened. He notices Flash giving him a dirty look once when he’s in the middle of telling Brad about his confrontation with Loki for the third time, but he ignores it. After everything that had happened, Flash just doesn’t seem as big of a deal anymore.

Loki’s attack, and subsequent arrest, is pretty much all the school can talk about. It’s lucky that the attack had happened just before their Spring Break, Peter thinks to himself, otherwise everyone would be falling remarkably behind in their classes as they kept up with the latest gossip instead of doing their homework. Updates about Loki’s trial come daily, from a multitude of dubiously verifiable sources. Peter doesn’t bother trying to stay up to date. He’ll know if anything important happens. 

Spring Break passes far more quickly than two weeks ought to. Peter then gets to experience his first ever exam season at Hogwarts. He’s pretty comfortable and confident in all of his classes, but that doesn’t mean that he spends any less time at the library with Ned and Michelle. Those two seem to really get along, and Peter finds himself grinning even when they decide to gang up on him, which happens increasingly often, especially as their Charms final draws closer and his stress reaches its peak. His tutoring with Professor Stark had slowed as exam season ramped up, but Peter still feels the need to impress the professor. Ned and Michelle tease him relentlessly for it, calling him a teacher’s pygmy puff. Peter refuses to tell them that he doesn’t know what a pygmy puff is, because he knows it’ll just result in even more bullying.

He rarely sees Wanda in the Gryffindor Common Room. When he does, they say hi to each other, but Peter can tell that she seems… different. Professor Stark refuses to tell him what they had talked about, but that doesn’t stop Peter from thinking about it. He hopes that the dark circles under Wanda’s eyes are from exam stress and nothing else. 

Eventually, on the other side of examinations, quidditch matches, and End of Year Feasts (with Ravenclaw winning the House Cup after a group of Slytherins had lost their house’s lead through something involving the Restricted Section and a number of corrosive potions), Peter finds himself disembarking from the Hogwarts Express once more. He says his goodbyes to Ned and Michelle, and leaves them with promises to write to both of them over the summer. He watches as Ned heads towards his cluster of relatives and Michelle greets whoever is picking her up with a hug, before turning to scan the platform for Ben and May.

He finds them standing off to the side, and all but sprints towards them. May and Ben hug him one after the other. “You’ve grown taller,” Ben says as he pulls back, reaching out to ruffle Peter’s hair. At Peter’s scowl, he laughs. “No, you have!”

“Let’s get out of here,” May says, grabbing Peter’s trunk and promptly passing it to Ben, who rolls his eyes fondly.

They make their way out of the crowded platform, weaving between families towards the Muggle platforms of the station. May had parked predictably far away - “I swear, Peter, the lot was insane, Ben wanted me to drop him off but I refused!” - but before long, Peter is sat once more in the backseat of the Fiesta, legs awkwardly curled up to make room for his trunk. 

“So, first year at wizard school,” Ben says once they’re on the motorway and heading back towards the apartment. “Thoughts? Opinions? Learn how to salvage May’s cooking yet?”

“Hey!” May reaches over to swat Ben without taking her eyes off the road.

Peter doesn’t even try to fight his laughter. “It was good,” he replies, once May has finished her assault. “Yeah,” he says, “it was good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter specific warnings: peter has a slight combination panic-anxiety attack (starts at "Peter slides down the wall" and ends at "Another bang echoes around him"), canon-typical violence/action.
> 
> soooo... how 'bout those disney+ trailers, huh? :D
> 
> i wanted to get this up earlier, i really did, but it turns out that online university and writing are simply not even remotely compatible with each other. also, this chapter fought me pretty much every step of the way - i wrote pretty much all of it as separate discontinuous scenes, and then left myself with the exciting job of figuring out how to piece everything together, so if it seems choppy it would be because it is :D
> 
> anyways, please let me know what you think!!! i'm in the midst of hell (aka exam season) atm so i might not respond quickly, but comments and kudos will always make my day. good luck to everyone else struggling with exams, happy holidays, and i hope you all stay safe and healthy!! see u next chapter for the start of peter's second year!!!

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: @tfatws / tumblr: thewombats


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